Michael is now employing the “truth hurts so I’ll lie” method to handling new and different foods.
He says “I love it,” meaning “that was vile, but I get in trouble for being brutally honest about how disgusting certain foods are so I’ll say what I think you want to hear so you’ll leave me alone.”
For instance, last week his mom picked up some rice bread for him to try. This was the only bread she could find that didn’t have milk and/or soy in it.
After lovingly crafting a PB&J sandwich from this new bread, she handed it to Michael, who took an exploratory bite.
He made that face: the one that looks like he just licked something he thought was chocolate but it turned out to be a moray eel, but he’s too cool to allow a genuine emotion to spread across his visage.
“Well?” his mom asked, expectantly. “How is it?”
“I love it,” he said, on his fiftieth chew of the one bite, his nose wrinkled ever so slightly while he strained to hold his breath and to keep his tongue from actually contacting the masticated wad, lest he taste it.
“Great!” his mom said. “Finish that up then and we can go on our errands.”
“Uh, I’m done with it. I’ll just save it for later,” he said, putting it down. The “later” of which he speaks is no doubt coincident with the end of the Mayan calendar.
For several weeks now Michael had been pestering me to get Brussels sprouts for him to try. He happily eats broccoli and many other vegetables, so this wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. It’s just that Brussels sprouts are infamous as the nemesis of children’s palettes everywhere, throughout all recorded history. Legends have sprung up over tales of stubborn children sitting for days, staring at their plate of uneaten Brussels sprouts until their parents finally cave in or grow too old to fight.
So for him to actually request them was nothing short of a miracle in my mind. And I couldn’t help but be a little proud, since I actually like them myself.
However, I resisted the first few requests, having previous experience with children and their unusual culinary requests (miniature bananas, edible flowers, Mexican hot chocolate, etc.) that ended up shoved to the back of the refrigerator to become fungal substrates.
On his continued insistence, I eventually broke down and bought some.
I made eight of them. A simple recipe: clean them, boil them in salt water, serve warm.
He was so delighted to pack into this “little cabbage” the way he chows down on the “little trees” of broccoli.
I knew things weren’t going well when I saw him take an exploratory nibble and make that staring-straight-ahead, corners-of-the-mouth-curled-down-slightly sort of chewing face.
“Hmm… not so much?” I said.
“It’s good,” he said, unconvincingly.
“I don’t believe you,” I said, unconvinced.
“I love it,” he said, still chewing the microgram of Brussels sprout he had in his mouth.
“Michael, you don’t need to lie to me. If you love it, eat it all and have more.”
He cut the sprout in half and forked half into his mouth.
He chewed on it for the better part of 45 minutes.
“Well? Do you still love it?”
“Yes,” he said, finally swallowing. “But I’m full.”
“Mmmkay. I’ll eat the other seven,” I said.
“Okay. They’re really good.”
“Maybe we can get more tomorrow!” I said, brightly.
“No, that’s okay,” he said. “We can try something else.”
“But you love it, right?”
“Oh, yes. I love it. Can I have a treat now?”
“I thought you said you were full.”
“Well I am full of Brussels sprouts, but…”
“Yeah. Eat your dinner.”
If nothing else, I do admire his adherence to the maxim: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”
Michael is such a sweet boy!
(MD) He has his moments.
Tears are rolling down my face and the dog even looked up in alarm lest I have some unseen predator lurking about that he missed.
I know the routine of “I’m full, but let me have chocolate” – but this sounds like a fully
theatrical production. Maybe that is the career path he will be taking, huh?
This was a great piece and I felt as though I were right there seeing it.
(MD) He works hard at his routine. I think he wants to succeed where his sisters had failed.
I love all types of vegetables, but Brussels sprouts are where I draw the line. It cracks me up that he is so stubborn that he refuses to say that he doesn’t like them.
BTW, I tried to comment on the lau lau post the other day, but it wouldn’t let me. Mr. Weasel is really digging your recipes and hoping to play with some of them himself.
(MD) Michael’s mommy is with you on the Brussels sprouts. I couldn’t say why I like them so much, but I don’t think there’s a veggie I don’t like. And mushrooms don’t count. As for the recipes: I’m hoping to come up with a collection of them at the end of this summer’s voyage. Maybe I can convince everyone to convene for a luau next summer, eh?
Are you saying you don’t like mushrooms? I am severely disappointed.
Michael is cracking me up. He is sticking to his guns and quite creatively I might add.
(MD) I despise mushrooms. But since my wife does too, it works out just fine for us. And yes, Michael is pretty creative, which makes his antics a whole lot more tolerable.
Mary is rather unfond of coconut in any form or shape. She therefore does prefer Brussels sprouts. Personally, I like Brussels sprouts. Maybe you got that from me along with your distaste for plumbing.
(MD) Maybe so; maybe those go hand in hand. Sorry Mary doesn’t like coconut. It’s one of those flavors that I can’t get enough of. Especially when it comes in the form of Mounds bars.
I know I shouldn’t be laughing because I’m pretty sure I’ll be in the same place in a few years, but this was funny. My son tried asparagus the other day and liked it, so maybe there is hope. The only way I can eat Brussels sprouts is if they are shredded, sauteed with bacon and mixed with a spicy brown mustard towards the end.
(MD) Say, that sounds really good! I’ll have to try that this week and see if my wife can handle them that way.
Wow – I could never have gotten my daughter to say she liked something unless she did. As for Brussels Sprouts, I once left her with a sitter and promise they could go to the pool once she ate ONE sprout. The sitter, a few years later, responded to my query about how she got kiddo to eat the sprout said, “Are you kidding? I hate those things, too. Wasn’t about to make her eat one.” Then she smiled ear-to-ear.
(MD) Hello, cousin! Thanks for dropping in! You know – I don’t really get what Michael thinks he’s proving by saying that he likes something that he doesn’t like, unless he is making a genuine effort to spare my feelings. Or maybe he has some sense of pride that prevents him from admitting defeat in some areas. I don’t know… Loved the story about the sitter!
Sorry I’m coming in late on this, but I love, really I do, Brussels sprouts. I wouldn’t eat them until I was an adult. Michael cracks me up. I would have spit them out at his age, not try to convince my parents I loved them. Michael’s one of a kind and I mean that in the best way possible! As for mushrooms, I say let them lie in the forest and rot.
(MD) Amen to that! They’re fungus, put here by God to help things decompose. Not something that needs to be consumed. I really cannot see the appeal of mushrooms in any form.