We all know that kids are fussy eaters, and that extends to ALL kids. Yes, I’m looking at you, Tarquin’s parents – I don’t believe for a minute that your little cherub demands organic Tuscan-grown cavolo nero instead of chicken nuggets).
All that being said, I’m finding it hard to second guess my son’s eating habits at the moments.
It had started pretty well. When he was a tot, he used to eat anything. He’d regularly bother me for tastes of my curries and other spicy treats. On one trip to an Italian restaurant, the owner took a real shine to my little guy chowing through olives like a mini Mediterranean. “Ah, Piccolino!” the owner would cry whenever we returned with my son in tow.
Those days of olive munching are long gone now though. “Urgh” was the response I got when I suggested he have some on a pizza we were making together.
In his defence, he’s always down for trying new foods. So he’ll come sniffing around me when I’ve got calamari for instance, and isn’t put off when I tell him what it is. He even tried fried egg despite him hating the smell. In a diplomatic response, he conceded that he doesn’t mind the yolk, but the rest could go in the bin. To be fair, he’s got a point there. Why can you buy egg whites on their own, but not the yolks? Where does all that golden goodness go?
The strange part is that he’s now completely off all the beige foods that kids tend to stick to. That is of course, apart from chicken nuggets. What is it about these parcels of processed poultry that kids can’t get enough of? If it’s something sinister, don’t tell me. Nuggets are the only go-to freezer dish that I can rely on in a fix. I’ll throw a few slices of avocado in with them so at least he gets a bit of colour on his plate though.
Every other beige food that I should be able to rely upon is out though. That means no fish fingers or cheese. The most surprising item that he dislikes though is potato.
Yes, that’s right. Potato. The most versatile of all root vegetables, nay, ANY vegetables.
I’ve lived my entire life worshiping at potato’s starchy altar. Like many health enthusiasts, I treat my body like a temple. The problem, is that my dome-like temple celebrates the carb-heavy glory of heroes such as Maris Piper, Desiree, and King Edward instead.
I tried him with boiled potatoes first. No dice.
A baked potato full of his favourite filling? He treated it like a secondary plate, and left it behind.
Can anyone resist the greasy allure of a roast potato? He can.
Then, after months, perhaps even years of him eating everything apart from the chips on his plate, we finally realised he doesn’t like them either.
NOT EVEN CHIP SHOP CHIPS!
Let me tell you reader, I was all but ready to collect his spudless saliva, and send it off for a paternity test. That was, until I realised one thing.
Like me, he hates cheese even more.
It’s not something I wanted to pass down to my progeny, as it’s an absolute curse finding food that isn’t lathered in cheese, but he despises these lumps of curdled milk too. I’ve been swimming against the off-white tides of cheese all my life on my own, but now I’ve got a little buddy who doesn’t mock me when I order a cheeseless pizza. He gets it.
Now that I’ve finally found someone who doesn’t like cheese either, I can forgive him for his aversion to spuds. Maybe I’ll try him on wedges soon though.
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