Change of Heart

Inspired by some friends who have much larger hurdles to vault than I, I've been trying to get my kids to eat some new foods. Grown-up foods. Things that don't come in colorful boxes and live in the freezer until their date with the microwave. (I hear you cringing, Alien.)

Some of it's gone well. They've embraced grown-up chicken off the grill and the pasta sauces we eat. They both agreed yesterday that my fruit and yogurt smoothies are way better than Danimals. DS likes turkey sandwiches, sometimes, and DD thinks plums are OK so long as their skins are removed before they touch her plate.

And some if it...not so much.

For lunch yesterday, I had a piece of barbecued chicken and some garlic and olive oil couscous. Both kids like rice. Both kids like pasta. The couscous seemed like a no-brainer, so a spoonful went on each of their plates last night at dinner.

I DON'T LIKE COO-COO! yelled the four-year old.

I don't like it either, Mommy, said the six-year-old, at least trying to be gentle about it.

Uh-huh, said I, rummaging around in the freezer and giving them a peek at the container of Edy's there in the front (DH's consolation gift to me when our stuff melted into an ooey gooey mess this weekend.).

Their eyes widened ICE CREEEEEAAAAAMMMM!!!

Can we please have some ice cream? Amazing how the manners come out all shiny and golden when there are frozen treats involved, isn't it?

I pondered. You can have some...if you eat all your dinner, said I.

They pondered. I went back to wiping down the countertops. After a minute, I heard spoons clinking against plates.

Mommy? The four-year old. I kind of like coo-coo!

Me too! said the six-year old. I kind of REALLY like it!

Rock on...