Those that keep up with Twitter will know that, lately, Declan has been feral when it comes to eating. He is insisting that he can survive soley on a diet of satsumas, peanut butter sandwiches and licorice.
It’s not that he doesn’t like the food I’m offering him, in fact I’ve gone out of my way to cook meals that I know he loves, pasta, tomatoes, sausages etc. His excuse for not eating them isn’t that he doesn’t like them, no, that would be silly, it’s because they’re not special.
Yeah, you read that right, Declan wants each meal to be a special snowflake placed delicately on a plate for his consumption.
This is our daily conversation…
F: Do you want pasta or eggs for lunch?
D: Is it special pasta?
F: Nope, just pasta.
D: Is it special eggs?
F: (thinking I can outwit him) Yes! It is special eggs.
D: (pure excitement washes over him) Yes please special eggs!
I then lovingly prepare him a ham and cheese ommellet, complete with ketchup smiley face on the top, place it down in front of him only to have him gasp, throw his hands to his face in disbelief that he’d fallen for this con again and yell “THAT’S NOT SPECIAL EGGS!!!”
Repeat three times daily with every other food you can imagine until I give in and make him a peanut butter sandwich, which apparently sit in a food category along with bananas, satsumas and sweets that do not need to be classified as special in order to be eaten.
The longer I raise my children the more I start to think that boarding school from 12 months up sounds like a fabulous plan. Someone else in some distant Hogwarts like set up with millions of toddlers at their feet can work out exactly what the magic equation to make food special is.
Until that happens I’m going to take out some shares in the peanut butter industry.