Don’t Pass the Peas, Please

Sweetman and I recently started plotting a way to get the kids to eat more veggies. Allow me to rephrase that, please.  Our children don’t eat cooked vegetables.

An intervention has become necessary.

We’ve tried a few popular methods for Operation Eat Your Vegetables, already. Sneaking shredded zucchini into their favorite pumpkin bread? Been there. Wouldn’t eat that!  Put shredded carrots into their spaghetti sauce or mashed potatoes? That would work great… if either one of them ate red sauce! Or mashed potatoes! Make vegetables look Super Fun and Exciting, a la Pinterest?  Sweetgirl asked if we could keep it on the counter for the week because it was “just too beautiful to eat, Mama!”

You can see why plotting is involved, right?

I fear that my children are going to end up going off to Harvard eating applesauce with their dinner every night. As long as I send them off with the twistable kind that they can open themselves, I guess we might be alright. (P.S. Regarding college: I’m totally kidding! We are actually praying that the Good Lord will see fit to motivate them to go anywhere for college!)

In all fairness, Sweetboy will eat raw baby carrots.  He really likes them, actually. Sweetgirl will even nibble on two or three, once in a while, as well.  Corn is another “vegetable” that we can get Sweetboy to eat – as long as it’s on the cob, freshly shucked, and from a local farm.  (I can thank Sweetman for passing on the Food Snob genetics!)

Beyond those few items, though, there is a strict Ain’t Gonna Eat It policy in place, here in this house.

And we didn’t enact it!

Last night, I attempted to re-introduce peas.  Both children ate them, joyfully, might I add, when they were under two. Sadly, they are considered enemy number one, at present.

We decided to go the Matter of Fact route, this time. “I’m giving you each a small amount of peas.  They are good for your body and you both need to eat more vegetables.  Also, if you don’t eat at least three bites AND swallow it down, no dessert for you.”

This conversation went over like a lead balloon, as you can imagine. Sweetboy, bless his heart, said, “Okay Mama.  They’re not my favorite, but I’ll deal with it.”

The other child?

There was a whole lot of weeping.

And gnashing of teeth!

And when I finished, she proceeded to do the same.  With some major foot stomping, chair rocking, and negotiating thrown in, for good measure.

I will say this, the child can pull The Pouty Face with the best of ’em!

After I literally held her nose (she requested this) so that she could down one blessed pea at a time, and gag with every. single. one., we both felt like we’d run a triathlon! Not to mention that my own gag reflex was now fully engaged.

We were both so traumatized by the ordeal that I told her she didn’t ever have to eat peas again… until she was 12.

Or, maybe 6 and a half. (I thought I said that last bit under my breath.)

But, little ears are always listening to every wee word we utter.

And, I know this because, this afternoon, Sweetgirl popped off the bus and squarely faced me to say, “Mama, you said I don’t have to eat peas again until I’m 12.  Or 6 and a half.  I want it to be 12.”

Please, don’t pass the peas.

I think it’s safe to say, it’ll be a few years.

Oh, yes indeedy!

Lay it on me! What trickery have you used to get your littles to eat their vegetables?

 

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Dentists Are Dead to Me

It’s official: Dentists are dead to me.

I was pretty sure that we were coming to this when I had that fateful dentist appointment a couple of years ago.

But this?  This takes the cake.

And frosts it with cavities.

Poor Sweetgirl.  We have just returned from her semi-annual dentist check up.  She’s had a stellar report each time that we’ve gone. We brush. We swish. We don’t floss. But, hey, we don’t live on candy around here, either. Neither child drinks the usual suspects for cavity inducing liquids.

So, we expected a great report again.

Sweetboy had just gotten a great report again, moments before.

And, Sweetgirl has the cutest little pearly whites I think I’ve ever seen! And I’m only mostly biased.

Seriously? What's not to love about that smile?!

Seriously? What’s not to love about that smile?!

Apparently though, she did not get my healthy toother genes.

Dang.

She bravely marched into the x-ray chair for the very first time this morning, all smiles and cute little pearly teeth. She opened wide and allowed the hygienist to arrange the spacer thingy in her mouth for the optimal viewing of her tiny teeth.  She held still.

SHE HELD STILL!

It was for five seconds, but PEOPLE! She did it!

We returned to our room and she hopped up into the pink (coral) chair to pick out her prize from the revered Prize Box.

Not so fast there, missy.

“Oh, Sweetgirl, you have some boo-boos on your teeth,” the Dentist said in his adorable Argentinian accent.  (I may give him a few extra points for delivering such devastating news in such a pleasant way. MAY.)

I immediately jumped out of my seat. “What kind of boo-boos?”

“She haas seeex cavities on her lowers teeth,” he calmly said.

Sweetboy said, “OH NO!”

I said “HOW MUCH?”

Sweetgirl said, “But, is the medicine to fix them PINK?”

I kid you not.

In that order.

He then gently explained that this will require two separate visits, laughing gas, Novocaine, and a viewing of Frozen.

I asked him if he could pass some of that laughing gas to me.

He was not amused.

Or, surprised.

So, clearly, I am going to have to pray about my stinky attitude toward all Dentists who are not from Argentina.

I’ll do that while I’m at the drugstore trying to find children’s dental floss. That’s pink.

Yes indeedy.