This week my kids are eating beans and rice every single night for dinner. Last weekend they decided to throw down over a few pieces of lettuce and I was so done. I collected all the junk food into a big bag and announced that they’d be eating beans and rice for an entire week to remember that food variety is a privilege.
The first night they made the best of it and agreed that beans were pretty good. We chanted this classic piece of poetry:
Beans, beans, good for the heart
The more you eat, the more you fart
The more you fart, the better you feel
So eat beans with every meal.
I’m not sure who wrote it. Maybe Shakespeare or William Blake.
The second night, with no junk food to fill up on all afternoon, they were grateful for dinner at all. My son actually got excited about an apple. Mwahaha, my evil plan was working.
Last night, they were horrified to discover that they were having reheated beans while Dad and I ate pizza in front of them. I know. You’re horrified, too. Feel free to judge. BUT THIS WAS ALL PART OF THE EVIL PLAN.
They gasped, “But we’re supposed to be having beans and rice this week!” I explained that they were eating beans and rice, but Daddy and I did not throw fits over salad and could eat whatever we want. They dejectedly tucked into their beans, and when I offered to make them toast to go with it, they acted like I’d baked them a cake. Hark, was that a glimmer of gratitude I saw?
I’m looking forward to reintroducing them to a variety of foods this weekend, but for now, it’s beans beans beans. We’re talking about how many people in the world eat the same thing every day and how we need to practice thankfulness even when we might encounter a leafy green that’s not to our liking.
This month, I wrote a piece for Coffee+Crumbs about this very issue of feeding finicky eaters and forgot that it was coming out this week. Perfect timing.
If you have picky eaters, please enjoy:
But You LIKE Hotdogs
Do you ever feel like to make dinner for your family you need a Venn diagram? When I take out all the things my kids won’t eat, and all the things we’re not supposed to serve them for dinner every night, for all three kids, there’s precious little overlap.
This is the part when I should mention that I make my kids eat crap they hate all the time. I’m not shaking in my boots or anything. Eat the spinach or watch me throw this ice cream in the trash, luv. But, sometimes it’s nice to not have three sobbing children at the table making gag noises telling me how my soup looks like a big booger. Just sayin’.
It’s nearly impossible to pull off a win. Recently we just came out of a Taco Tuesday ban, in which my three kids teamed up to eschew a) taco shells b) meat c) cheese d) toppings. How do you hate tacos?
image from evening_tao/freepik