I received an email from a loyal listener of my podcast asking for an update on my attempt to prepare and serve the same meal to all members of the family every night. I thought I would blog about the experience more regularly, given all the preceding battles at our dinner table (usually led by my six-year-old who favored use of the word “disgusting” to describe my cooking). But I am pleased to report that it’s been a little over a month and there have been fewer fights than I anticipated.
Monday night, my six-year-old actually ate 1/4 of a turkey burger cooked on the grill. I believe he said, “Dad, you make the best turkey burgers. I love them.”
Of course, had I prepared said turkey burgers, the response may have been different. But it doesn’t matter. I’m just so glad he’s eating new things.
My four-year-old is less enthusiastic about trying new foods, but he never complains about what I put in front of him. He moves things around and takes baby bites at best, but I figure eventually he will come around. He has recently started enjoying different shapes of pasta with butter (I started with wagon wheels, moved on to spaghetti and bow ties) and will usually clean the pasta plate. My six-year-old, not so much.
One likes blackberries, the other likes blue. One likes his hot dogs whole, the other sliced. They both agree on cheese, as long as it’s white American, and ketchup is a primary food group.
But progress comes slowly. Tonight I am making calzones and salad. Last time I tried serving a calzone it didn’t go over so well. And yet I am not deterred. Actually, I will admit to feeling a little proud of myself for sticking it out. Like everything else: getting a baby to take a bottle, sleeping through the night, giving up diapers, learning to swim or ride a bike. It all takes time, effort, and persistence.
Mealtimes are much easier for me now and that’s a small victory worth celebrating.