He Eats What We Eat

He eats what we eat is yet another one of those statements that moms make in order to make other moms feel inadequate. I'll tell you what my son eats: peanut butter sandwiches. He is very close to existing solely on peanut butter sandwiches. Not even peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, just peanut butter. He’s apparently had some sort of falling out with the jelly, which I might pursue further if it was say, broccoli. But it’s not, it’s jelly. It's okay if they stay mad at each other. So he’s been having peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast and dinner quite a few times per week. He gets on these kicks. The same thing goes for t.v. shows. Like last week he watched probably two hundred consecutive episodes of Peep and the Big Wide World, but if I even suggest it to him this week it's like I asked if he wants to watch the extended version of Lincoln. 

He eats what we eat. Right. I usually at least attempt to get him to eat what we're eating, but you tell me how you think this will go:

Me: Dinner’s ready!
Child: What are we having?
Me: Sausage and Escarole soup!
Child: What?
Me: Sausage soup.
Child: I don't like soup.
Me: You like sausages.
Child: I want a peanut butter sandwich.
Me: You should try some soup.
Child: I can walk like a crab!

Maybe it’s my own fault for serving something that contains leafy greens. Or beans. Or “on-yongs” (onions). Or, God forbid, carrots that aren't "school carrots" (Really, what is that preschool lunch lady doing with the carrots? Apparently she's some kind of culinary genius). So unless I make something standard like spaghetti or chicken, I'll let him have a peanut butter sandwich. It just makes life easier. He eats what we eat. Are you guys eating Toaster Cakes with grapes every night? If not, how did you accomplish such a feat? When he was a baby did you throw a bunch of baked stuffed shrimp into the food processor? Eat at the all-you-can-eat Indian buffet before breastfeeding? Coat his binkie with guacamole? I mean, my kid won’t even try a taco containing nothing but meat and cheese. And he's suddenly got this grudge against dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets.

Child: Is that a T-Rex?
Me: No!  It's an oval!  See?  (bites the head off)
Child: I don't like ovals.
Me: You're in luck, this oval has legs and a tail!
Child:  I want a peanut butter sandwich.

I don't know. If your kid seriously eats what you eat, and eats more than one bite of it per evening, good for you. I don't know how you did it.  Maybe you arrange everything on his plate to look like a scene from Jake and the Neverland Pirates.  I don't have the time, the talent, or the mini toothpick swords for that kind of thing.

Or, and this is my real theory, you just never allowed your kid to taste a peanut butter sandwich.