Food

Nancy is staggeringly observant, hyper-aware, and has an incredible memory.  She is also rapidly honing her negotiation skills, stubborn, and a completely unadventurous eater.  Last week, she told the babysitter she doesn't like peanut butter and jelly because "My Mommy made-ed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when I was in preschool in Florida and I didn't like it."  That was August of 2011...  Nothing will sway her to give it another try.  Same with chicken pot pies - she was apparently traumatized by a sub-par microwavable pot pie and refuses to try even restaurant or homemade versions.  She went through a phase of only eating chicken nuggets if they were shaped like dinosaurs.  Didn't matter if it was the same brand, if it was shaped like anything BUT a dinosaur, it was not getting eaten.  

The thing that gets me is the unwillingness to admit the lapse in logic between "I don't like it." "Well, have you tried it?" "No." THEN HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?!?!?!  

After a relentless rotation of mac and cheese, hot dogs, dinosaur chicken nuggets, and pizza, I was forced to resort to a few instances of clever semantics to gain us some culinary flexibility...

"Mommy, what is this?" "Pastitsio.  That's Greek for 'lasagna'." 

"Mommy, what is this?" "Quesadilla.  That's Spanish for 'grilled cheese'."

"Mommy, what is this?" "Pad Thai.  It's just orange spaghetti..."

Her picky eating must be thwarted, so when she started preschool in Chicago, and it was at a school where breakfast, lunch, and snack were provided for all the kids, I decided I was going to force her to eat the free food to simultaneously combat her finicky eating and give our grocery bill some relief.  About a month in, she asked again if she could bring her own lunch, and I said no.  I reassured her that whatever they served would be good for her.  We got to the school, looked at the calendar, and the meal listed for the day was grilled cheese.  I turned to her triumphantly and said, "See, Nancy?  Grilled cheese!  I told you you'd like it."  Only... apparently the school lunch calendar is "subject to change."  And they did not serve them grilled cheese that day.  They served burritos.  And Nancy was none too pleased.  The next morning, I go into her room to wake her up at 6am.  As usual, I gently nudge her, and sweetly coo things like, "Morning, beautiful!  Time to get up, sweet pea..."  The very first - THE VERY FIRST - words out of her mouth to me were:  "Mommy, be careful with the school lunch.  Slooooooowly read the words..." 

And yet, in this swirl of limited choices and dining battles, food centers around some of her most staggeringly funny moments of creativity...  

I let Nancy play with her food. Call me irresponsible, but I am not about to stifle her creativity just because we're at the dining room table. And then I get to enjoy moments like when she bit two strategic bites out of half of a hard boiled egg and announced, "Look, Mommy! I made underpants!" And when she put her gummy vitamin shaped like a princess in her mouth, and every few chews, opened her mouth so the princess' cries for help could escape.

A year ago today, she debuted a "magic" trick for me. Holding two pretzel sticks, Nancy said, "Mommy, I'm gonna disappear this. Close your eyes." (Mommy closes her eyes, hears "CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH" of pretzels being eaten.) Nancy: "Okay, open your eyes! (shows Mommy her empty hands) Where'd they go?!"   

This past March, we had a pizza party, and Nancy ordered a side of veggies. She took a cauliflower, held it against her teeth, and looked at me. I looked at her quizzically, and she said, "Camouflage."

Nancy quote, February 6, 2012: "Cupcakes are medicine to feel me better."