Here’s what’s weird. When your kids are little, they will eat any kind of garbage in the world. But when they get bigger they get hyper-picky.
The Ice is famous for having found a way to eat cat food no matter where I hid it. Hey, it was crunchy and kid-sized, and often could be found in a toddler-sized bowl under the table on the back porch. Perfect! Now he won’t eat any food that’s mixed. As in jello with fruit, succotash, stir fry, cookies with nuts, you get the picture. He also seemed to be born a vegetarian, and today he subsists primarily on bean burritos and PB&J. He was precisely three years old when I ended my vegetarian lifestyle. I remember the first time I ate meat again it was tuna from a can, and he cried, “Mom! Don’t eat that, it smells like cat food!” He was one to talk.
When the Maker was tiny he loved fat. I swear he would have eaten Crisco if I’d kept it in the house. Once I stumbled into the kitchen around 7 am and found that he had discovered, extracted, and eaten three-quarters of a package of raw bacon. For three days I was terrified that he would die from some raw pork related disease. The Maker was also famous for laying flat on his belly in the sidewalk to lick water from puddles. Today he balks at onions in his baked beans. Explain that. You can’t do it, can you?
And here’s one more oddity: as your kids grow up they become lumpers. All snakes are copperheads, all spiders are black widows, all cool cars are Mustangs, and all sodas are Cokes. Since I know that last one to be absolute, if regional, truth, I’m wondering if this varies according to geography, and perhaps in the north all sports are hockey. Or maybe all this is some kind of boy thing. But how would I know?