Things can really snowball when you start bending the rules just a little. In fact, sometimes it’s more like an avalanche.
My three year old is what we might call a picky eater. A very, very, very picky eater. He lives on fruit, yogurt, whole grain bagels, carrots, and sugar snap peas. He will eat waffles and French toast homemade by mommy. Muffins and scones are high on his list of likes. And milk. Lots and lots of milk.
Sure, chicken makes appearances at times, and once he ate pasta because it was in the shape of a car. But steak, grilled cheese, scrambled eggs, and most other foods in general? He considers it an insult when I put small pieces on his plate.
It doesn’t come as much of a surprise. I didn’t eat a piece of pizza until I was 18, and his father was equally as picky as a small child.
It’s more surprising that his big sister eats just about everything. She will try almost anything, and she likes 95% of what she tries. Her picky phase was short lived. She was too busy enjoying new tastes to get stuck in a rut.
Not baby brother, though. He is set in his ways. Trying new things is not of interest to him, and he would almost always rather be playing than eating. He has things to….