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Becoming a picky eater


I’ve said many times that I’d be hard-pressed to describe Markus as a picky eater.

Pun intended, it looks as if I’m going to have to eat my words.grumpy-2.jpg

Markus, I regret to say, is rushing pell-mell into the (dun-dun-dunnnn!!!) Terrible Twos. This little guy, who was always so easy to feed that he barely even needed a bib when he first went to solids (he made dang sure that every drop of whatever he was getting got in his mouth), is asserting his independence whenever and however he can.

Oatmeal? He’s eaten it for breakfast more mornings than not for the past year, year and a half. The last couple of times we’ve made it for him (including this morning)? Fugheddaboutit.

He absolutely, positively refused to eat so much as one flake of oatmeal. He wouldn’t eat any of mommy’s, which is mixed with Polaner all-fruit spread. He used to eat all of his, finish what his big brother left over and then have some of mine.

He used to not think twice about eating chicken. Now he looks at it suspiciously, ponders it and shakes his little curly mop of a head.

Like his brother before him, he’s learning to love the word “no” and his eating habits are the biggest casualty.

We used to brag that Rafael wasn’t very picky, that he ate pretty much whatever we ate. Then the twos AND threes hit and he became incorrigible about everything, not least of all his eating habits.

Days would go by where we weren’t sure if he’d eaten anything that wasn’t a carbohydrate — bread, crackers and Cheerios. We secretly cheered when he ate yogurt or cheese. At least he still drank his milk and would down some apple juice, too.

We began to think he was never going to eat anything else again.

Then, he accepted red cabbage, and steak. The other day he ate chicken (and used a grown-up fork and knife, though it was one of those knives that’s barely a step up from a butter knife). He even ate eggplant recently, so long as I cut the skin off it.

He still gets weird if there are herbs on something, he wants all the “green things” or “black things” taken off, and I tell him to do it himself or cope with it. (I freely admit, I did more than once just pick off as much as I could just so he’d freakin’ eat already. I don’t have resolve of steel, by a longshot.)

But Markus’ move toward pickyness has helped me to remember that Rafael, once upon a time, wasn’t very picky. So maybe one day soon Rafael will surprise us and eat something that has specks of color on it and is even on the same plate as something else (that’s another story for another day).

And, maybe, in a couple years, Markus once again will eat anything and everything put in front of his little face.

Meanwhile, I have to get used to hearing the word “Noooooooo!”

A lot.

Photo courtesy of the Stock Exchange. 

This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 1st, 2008 at 2:40 pm by Amy Vernon. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
Category: picky eater, terrible twos