I have always complained that my children are picky eaters, but recently, at one of Zoe's appointments at the IWK, I was speaking with the dietitian and she assured me that it sounded it like Zoe's diet included lots of diversity within the four major food groups.
So, I went along with what she was saying and decided it must be the boys who always complain at the dinner table. Then, after much reflection on the matter (because, let's face it, I think every thing to death), I decided that my kids are not picky eaters; but rather, they are particular eaters. Everything I make has to be made to their very particular and long list of requirements; for instance, they all like cinnamon buns, but you can not put cinnamon in anything else or they will gag and go on like you are poisoning them. They love broccoli, but you better not go and cook it. Stir fry is a huge hit, but it better not be soggy and it better not be too crunchy and it better not have too many peppers, but a few peppers are necessary, and so on and so on and so on.
Last night, after a busy day of trying to get school done with two boys who are hard-wired for nothing but Christmas right now (I really can't complain because this is entirely my fault), I decided to whip up a home-made pizza and a Caesar salad for supper. The minute I started rolling out the pizza dough, I was inundated with a long list of suggestions:
Mmmm . . . pizza! Don't forget the salami.
You mean pepperoni?
Yep, that's the one.
Make sure there are some veggies on my half!
Do NOT put veggies on my half!
Remember I don't like too much sauce.
Ohhhh! I love the sauce. Make sure there is lots of sauce.
Then Baby Girl texted me to tell me that she was almost home and was wondering what was for supper. I told her and waited for the onslaught of all of her specifications:
It BETTER NOT have hamburger on it.
And you BETTER NOT have used the cheap pizza sauce.
She has such a lovely way of expressing herself . . . tee hee!
Then Avery ran up behind me, and pointed out that I always ruin my pizzas by putting on too much cheese. Elliot then chimed in:
PLEASE do not put too much cheese on it!
And so this is what I came up with:
I have to admit I was feeling pretty pleased with myself for incorporating all of their suggestions until Avery came up behind me once again and groaned:
Why do your pizzas always have to look like that?!
Grrrr . . . .
With yet another supper-time fail under my belt and far too many things to do over the next couple of weeks, I have decided that for the remainder of this Christmas season we, the residents of Shenanigans Inc, are going on the Buddy the Elf diet and only partaking in sweet sugary goodness. Because in all honesty, we are practically there already:
Thanks, Hil, for the idea! We'll just call this a little gift to myself . . . tee hee!
Happy Two Weekends Before Christmas! Oh, and I won't be checking in here at a Ferry Crossing Away until next Tuesday because Baby Girl and I are heading back up to the IWK for her last appointment of 2012. Hooray! Wish us luck.