Peter is my son. He is seven and often hungry. Once in a while, if I prepare one of the few foods for dinner that he doesn’t like, he will act un-hungry and then ask for a bowl of cereal an hour later. And then ask for dessert. “But I’m hungry!”
His second grade class did a project on adjectives, describing themselves. This was Peter’s:
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Giving a hungry boy a snack is so easy. I can give him cookies (almost any kind) or a granola bar (again, any kind) or grapes or blueberries or a bowl of cut-up strawberries and if I happen to have whipped cream he’d like it on top but if I don’t that’s okay and if I don’t have time to cut them up he’ll just pick them up and bite them, that’s okay too. He’ll drink kefir or milk or juice or water. “Soda has too much sugar, no thanks.”
He is my good eater gift to balance Rebecca. Rebecca is thirteen and only eats pasta, broccoli, green beans, and cheddar cheese (which she prefers sliced, not in the block variety). It may sound great that she eats broccoli and beans, and it is, I realize.
But when a person limits herself to only those two items in the entire realm of fruit and vegetables, it gets, shall we say, boring.
Giving Rebecca a snack is tricky. I can give her cookies (only chocolate chip, no nuts) or a granola bar (must be covered with chocolate coating and have chocolate chips inside) or ice cream with hot fudge and just the right-sized dollop of whipped cream if I happen to have it. She’ll drink milk or water or juice or any kind of soda. (Yes, soda is her area of flexibility.) Or if we’re feeling healthy that day she’ll eat sliced cheddar and a cracker but she doesn’t really like crackers so she’ll just have a slice of cheddar. Which is a weird snack but she’s thirteen so whatever.
Bridget is twelve, and somewhere in the middle regarding snacks, except when it comes to whipped cream. Bridget’s favorite snack/dessert/meal is a giant bowl of whipped cream with almost anything underneath it, and then more whipped cream on top.
We have to hide the container from her.