Taste Buds

After almost 6 years, I am no closer to understanding the taste buds of my children than when I started this whole sordid parenting stuff. First off, it always boggled my mind that the same mouth that greedily tastes carpet fuzz, insects, cat food, and yard mulch would spit out applesauce like it was poison.

I remember early on when I transitioned my firstborn to formula. My husband, one morning, helpfully pointed out that the instructions on the tin indicated that I should be BOILING the water, whereas I was negligently slopping it in straight from the tap (I know: cart me away!) My response belied my mere 11 months' worth of parenting experience, as I shot back: "He LICKS the CAT. You want me to *boil the water?"

Not much has changed since then, even considering I've doubled by kid-count. Fruits are eyed with suspicion, vegetables abhorred, and anything with ZERO nutritional value positively revered. Now, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck yesterday - I know that my children's diet largely reflects my own personal level of commitment to a healthy lifestyle. But I also maintain that even having never set eyes on a Cheeto, having never heard the word, and having never even anything that peculiar neon shade of orange, kids these days instinctively know that Cheetos rate higher than raisins. And will subsequently refuse all raisin-shaped foods, instead clamoring for brand-name snacks that make a mom cringe.

I made it through my entire first year as a parent without a shred of junk food in my house. With the arguable exception of chocolate - and that was strictly for medicinal purposes (plus, I NEVER share.) Yet, three minutes into a neighborhood Christmas party, the jig was up. Cookies had done their damage, and his brain has never quite recovered.

Now it's a constant challenge to keep them eating a remotely respectable diet. Sometimes I think I may as well just opt for the plastic fruit. It doesn't rot, and you never know, they might just like it better.

I've tried involving the kids in simple food preparation. But after extensive research have determined that enthusiasm demonstrated during bean snapping in NO WAY translates to willingness to taste them.

I play lots of games with presentation. I do a bit of disguising with mashed potatoes. And I see no reason to restrict the use of cookie cutters in any manner. But my primary rule is: all meat is referred to as "chicken." May I take this opportunity to say "FIE" to the restaurants that feature "chicken fingers" on the menu? Gee whiz, isn't our job hard enough?

What's worse, I know the situation is going to get worse before it gets better. At least now, at 5 and 3, I can usually outsmart them. Or, in a pinch, bribe, cajole, or otherwise influence their choices. Sooner or later they're going to have access to the world, and be able to fill their bellies with whatever rot they want.

My husband sometimes asks why I bother putting beans on their plate. It's because I'm a mom, and it's the law. We cannot live without hope, you know.