More Teeny Tales
A conversation with Alice
Alice, age 2 1/2, just asked me a question.
"Mom, do we have any gum?"
"Nope," I said. "We're all out."
"Oh," she replied. "Are we poor? Or just sad?"
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Picky Picky Lucy
Lately, Lucy has been picky about what she'll eat. This comes as a surprise; it's the same kid who ate jellyfish, red peppers and raw broccoli with abandon just a few years ago. (And she still likes sushi and all forms of Thai and Indian food.)
We were feeling too tired to cook, so we asked Lucy where she'd like to eat.
"Do you want to try the catfish place?" Adam asked. "We've never been."
"Dad," Lucy said. "I don't like catfish. And they really don't like me."
Picky Picky Lucy, Part II
For dinner yesterday I made something nutritious, but horribly unpopular with Lucy: a sprouted wheat pasta with a vodka cream sauce.
She took a bite, winced, and said, very politely, "I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I really do not like this."
And then she added, "Also, my stomach hurts."
Lucy has been saying her stomach hurts every night at dinner. She even said it this morning at breakfast when she'd eaten all the marshmallows out of her Lucky Charms. I might believe that one's stomach could hurt after eating dehydrated marshmallows, but I have witnessed with my own two eyes Lucy's infinite stomach capacity for crap.
The truth is, she just didn't want to finish her cereal. She'd filled her bowl to the brim, topping it off each time there were no visible marshmallows. So the stomach ache thing wasn't going to fly.
But back to last night. I reminded her that I'd baked banana bread that she would not be eating if she didn't make a dent in her dinner.
"But you wouldn't want any banana bread with a stomach ache, would you?" I said.
"My stomach doesn't hurt for that," she said.
"Six bites, Lucy."
So Adam and I watched her take six bites of nutrious sprouted wheat noodles bathed in zesty vodka sauce. On the sixth bite, she actually gagged. It was a thing of beauty.
As a proud cook, I never thought I'd be this happy to make someone gag at my food. But as a parent, I somehow feel I've arrived.