Picky Picky!

The article on the front page (well, it's not there yet, if you're reading this Tuesday night) got me thinking about the phases kids go through in what they eat. Early on it was our goal, as parents, to get our children used to the unusual and interesting, and not be one of those annoying picky eaters that everyone knows. One of the experiences that led me to this decision was way back when I was maybe 13 or so. We had a family reunion at my aunt and uncle's house in Washington state, and I began to notice, after a while, that something was wrong. Every meal, with the possible exception of breakfast, included the anomalous dishes of hot dogs and taco salad. For example, one night they'd fix up grilled salmon and rice and a nice green salad... and hot dogs and/or taco salad. The next night, a casserole and... you guessed it. I eventually realized out that these were the only things my two cousins would eat! Now, if they were 4 or 5 maybe I'd give them a pass, but at this time they weren't much younger than me at 12 and 10. I decided then and there that if and when I had kids they were sure as heck going to be more gastronomically adventurous than to limit themselves to hot dogs and taco salad, which probably aren't the healthiest things for you, either.

We were overjoyed when our son, Trevor, started eating real food. We could feed him damn near anything and he'd slug it down and beg for more. Thai? No problem. Indian? Bring on the gobi aloo! Mexican? You get the picture. It was great. I remember one particular dinner party where I made what I think was a very creditable version of Yucatecan pollo pibil, complete with banana leaves, and Trevor loved it, to the amazement of all present. We decided not to offer him the habañero salsa, but he did manage to smear pureed black beans all over every exposed part of his body, which was pretty funny. Some made it in his mouth, too. But after he hit two, something happened. He got pickier and pickier, with plaintive cries of "I don't like that" and "That's yucky!" when confronted with dinner. I know it's a phase that most children go through, but I couldn't help but be disappointed, a little. Now bland is the name of the game. He never met a starch he didn't like, it seems, but fortunately still seems to love broccoli, one of his favorites since he started eating solids. That makes me happy.

Now that our daughter is over a year old she's finally eating what we eat, having told us, in her own unmistakable way, that baby food was no longer welcome at our dinner table. And, as before, she'll happily chow down on anything put in front of her. Octopus? OK, I haven't tried that one but she'd probably go for it. She'll also get into that picky stage, no doubt, but we'll still foist "interesting" stuff on both of them in hopes of avoiding the dreaded fate of not being able to eat anything but hot dogs and taco salad for eternity.