I’m sure my own mother would say that I was a picky eater. I have vivid memories of being made to stay at the table until midnight as I engaged in a battle of the wills with my mother. She said I couldn’t leave the table until I ate everything on my plate…and so I sat. Refusing to eat.
I, of course would say that I just didn’t care for some of the meals she made. It wasn’t that she was a bad cook. It was just that I’ve never liked certain foods. The difference with my children is that they only eat 5 things. Or so it seems to me at the present time. And they complain, bitterly. Then they want more food 5 minutes after throwing away the meal I prepared, untouched. I never asked my mother for more food and I always ate at least something on my plate, even if I didn’t eat everything. In other words, I don’t feel I deserve to have these picky little eaters!
Were you a picky eater?
Do you have picky eaters at home?
I’d love to hear your stories. You know, misery loves company and all that.