Come and Get It
June 1, 2006
Hope your summer is off to a good start. We are getting ready for our oldest son's first t-ball game and my wife has a complex schedule of swimming lessons, play dates, work and naps all ready to go. I thought I'd share the latest struggle at our house. It involves the family meal.
We make it a point to try and eat as a family in the evenings. But it is not without serious effort. One side of the table we have one son, whose list of foods-he-will-eat consists of bread, water, butter, apples and Lucky Charms. On the other side we have our second son who will eat anything, but eats it too fast and is in perpetual motion at the table so much so that it makes you dizzy.
Our oldest analyzes a plate of food like one of the cops from CSI. You put a plate in front of him that contains cheese slices, bread with butter on it, apple slices and ham bits. You say a quick prayer and hope he eats something. But then the investigation begins.
Oldest son, "Is this the kind of apples I like?"
Me, "Yes. It's the kind you had yesterday."
Oldest son, "Are they Golden Apples, or Washington?"
Me, with sweat starting to form on my upper lip, "Um, Golden?"
Oldest son, "Dad, I hate Golden. These cheese slices look weird. Why did you cut them so small?"
Me, starting to turn red, "Because I thought you liked them small."
Oldest son, "Dad, I like them longer than this. Is this butter on my bread? I like butter. But not too much. It looks like you put too much butter on the bread dad."
Me, suppressing a twitch starting to begin in my left eye, "I can take some butter off."
Oldest son, "Now there's not enough butter dad. Why did you take so much butter off?"
Me, "EAT YOUR MOTHER SCRATCHING BREAD AND BUTTER BEFORE I MAKE YOU EAT WITH THE DOG OUTSIDE YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FOOL!!!!"
Ok, I don't actually say that last line out loud, but I mouth it every now and then.
Our second son is the world's happiest eater but he eats entirely too fast. I set the plat down in front of him. We say grace. I look down to pick up my fork. I look up and his plate is clean and he's walking out of the kitchen. Half the time you get sucked into his quick eating habits and before you know it, you're shoveling food down your gullet just trying to keep up. It becomes some type of contest where I'm the slow tempo basketball team, he likes to run and gun, and I'm getting run out of the gym. He is also all over his chair. Kneeling on the chair. Doing handstands on the chair. Falling off the chair. Getting his foot stuck in the chair and screaming in pain. Lecturing the dog, "No Casey! No! My food!!!" When he's finished he heads out of the kitchen and I run after him to bring him back to wash his hands before the living room drapes become ketchup stained with finger prints.
Our oldest will try a new food. Oh I don't know, something exotic like a cheeseburger. He gets so worked up he makes himself gag. You can see it coming so you hopefully have a chance to swallow your own food before the drama begins. There's the initial gag. The effort not to gag. A more violent gag. An attempt to swallow mixed with a look of a drowning man. Then the lean over to the trash can and the spitting up. Then a representative from the Academy brings him the Oscar for "Best supporting actor in a family dinner time drama."
And both of them have a unique talent for spilling their cup of water, juice, milk, etc. I've come to expect at least one spill each meal. I've actually become quite good at the clean up. I just have a towel handy, tucked in my back pocket, and I spring into action to wipe up the spill before the glass hits the floor. And don't you dare give one kid a cup the other kid wanted or you'll be heading back to the cupboard to find two identical, "Over the Hedge" movie cups.
We've actually made some progress with our oldest's picky eating habits. He's expanded to an occasional orange and now eats Honey Nut Cheerios. And yet with all this, when we holler at the boys to "Come and get it", they scream, "OK!" and race to the table with smiles and laughter.
They're not fooling anybody. Somebody pass me the Lucky Charms.
Hope your summer is off to a good start. We are getting ready for our oldest son's first t-ball game and my wife has a complex schedule of swimming lessons, play dates, work and naps all ready to go. I thought I'd share the latest struggle at our house. It involves the family meal.
We make it a point to try and eat as a family in the evenings. But it is not without serious effort. One side of the table we have one son, whose list of foods-he-will-eat consists of bread, water, butter, apples and Lucky Charms. On the other side we have our second son who will eat anything, but eats it too fast and is in perpetual motion at the table so much so that it makes you dizzy.
Our oldest analyzes a plate of food like one of the cops from CSI. You put a plate in front of him that contains cheese slices, bread with butter on it, apple slices and ham bits. You say a quick prayer and hope he eats something. But then the investigation begins.
Oldest son, "Is this the kind of apples I like?"
Me, "Yes. It's the kind you had yesterday."
Oldest son, "Are they Golden Apples, or Washington?"
Me, with sweat starting to form on my upper lip, "Um, Golden?"
Oldest son, "Dad, I hate Golden. These cheese slices look weird. Why did you cut them so small?"
Me, starting to turn red, "Because I thought you liked them small."
Oldest son, "Dad, I like them longer than this. Is this butter on my bread? I like butter. But not too much. It looks like you put too much butter on the bread dad."
Me, suppressing a twitch starting to begin in my left eye, "I can take some butter off."
Oldest son, "Now there's not enough butter dad. Why did you take so much butter off?"
Me, "EAT YOUR MOTHER SCRATCHING BREAD AND BUTTER BEFORE I MAKE YOU EAT WITH THE DOG OUTSIDE YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FOOL!!!!"
Ok, I don't actually say that last line out loud, but I mouth it every now and then.
Our second son is the world's happiest eater but he eats entirely too fast. I set the plat down in front of him. We say grace. I look down to pick up my fork. I look up and his plate is clean and he's walking out of the kitchen. Half the time you get sucked into his quick eating habits and before you know it, you're shoveling food down your gullet just trying to keep up. It becomes some type of contest where I'm the slow tempo basketball team, he likes to run and gun, and I'm getting run out of the gym. He is also all over his chair. Kneeling on the chair. Doing handstands on the chair. Falling off the chair. Getting his foot stuck in the chair and screaming in pain. Lecturing the dog, "No Casey! No! My food!!!" When he's finished he heads out of the kitchen and I run after him to bring him back to wash his hands before the living room drapes become ketchup stained with finger prints.
Our oldest will try a new food. Oh I don't know, something exotic like a cheeseburger. He gets so worked up he makes himself gag. You can see it coming so you hopefully have a chance to swallow your own food before the drama begins. There's the initial gag. The effort not to gag. A more violent gag. An attempt to swallow mixed with a look of a drowning man. Then the lean over to the trash can and the spitting up. Then a representative from the Academy brings him the Oscar for "Best supporting actor in a family dinner time drama."
And both of them have a unique talent for spilling their cup of water, juice, milk, etc. I've come to expect at least one spill each meal. I've actually become quite good at the clean up. I just have a towel handy, tucked in my back pocket, and I spring into action to wipe up the spill before the glass hits the floor. And don't you dare give one kid a cup the other kid wanted or you'll be heading back to the cupboard to find two identical, "Over the Hedge" movie cups.
We've actually made some progress with our oldest's picky eating habits. He's expanded to an occasional orange and now eats Honey Nut Cheerios. And yet with all this, when we holler at the boys to "Come and get it", they scream, "OK!" and race to the table with smiles and laughter.
They're not fooling anybody. Somebody pass me the Lucky Charms.
posted by Hank Louis Tierney at 7:58 PM
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