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"In America," author Robert Benchley wrote, "there are two classes of travel—first class and with children." Amen to that, especially if the trip with kids includes eating as part of the itinerary.
Hubby Bill and I thought our family food skirmishes would end when our two kids grew out of highchairs and started chewing solid foods. Silly us. Children who can read a menu are 10 times more dangerous.
"Look, Mom! They serve sweetbread."
Firm shake of the head. "You don't want that, honey. Trust me."
"I do, too!" Serious pouting. "Sweetbread is like Grandma's dessert cake, right?"
Motherly sigh. "No, it's like the pancreas of a calf."
"Ohhh." Eyes widen, face pales. "Can we go to McDonald's?"
I've tried waving away the offered menu with a smile and a simple question for the waiter: "What do you have that looks like a hot dog?"
"A hot dog, ma'am."
"Perfect. We'll take two, please. Plain. On buns."
Breakfast on the town is especially tricky if your kids aren't egg eaters and the only pancakes they trust are yours. I've been known to hide Pop Tarts in my purse and pass them under the table with strict instructions to eat them wrapped in a napkin. Preferably while wearing dark sunglasses.
Not all restaurant jaunts are so easily handled. Sometimes parents are reduced to one of three desperate appeals:
- Stewardship. "We paid $12.95 for that eggplant casserole, son, and we're not leaving until you eat every bite. I know you thought the eggplant would be purple, but you're going to have to finish it anyway. Use your fork, please."
- Starving children. "There are hungry children in [favorite Third-World country here] who would be very grateful to have that braised beef liver. No, we can't mail it to them. Because it would spoil. Yes, fine, we'll send money. Now, eat!"
- Just one bite. "How will you ever know what food tastes like unless you try it? One little bite won't kill you, sweetie. Watch Mommy! Mommy is tasting your yummy oatmeal. Oh, isn't this nice? I know it's cold and lumpy and the color of wallpaper paste, but it's soooo good for you. See how Mommy is smiling?" Glurp.
My husband, Bill, has a theory about children and taste buds. He believes that sometime during a child's early years a mysterious 15-minute window opens. Whatever you feed the child while that window is ajar becomes his or her favorite food. Forever.
Your picky daughter won't eat a thing? She was napping during those critical 15 minutes. Sorry. Better luck next child.
Your not-so-choosy kid eats the house down, from cucumber salad to mincemeat pie? His window flew open during a church potluck.
My own children were home alone with their father—horrors!—when their taste windows cracked open for those all-too-brief minutes. Hence, just-turned-11 Lillian's favorite item is ketchup, which isn't even a food. Dill pickles are her other fave. Ketchup and pickles smooshed together are fine, too. Almost-13-year-old Matthew's food-for-life is salsa. He won't eat any of the individual vegetables found in salsa, of course. But cook those tomatoes, peppers, onions, and garlic into oblivion, pour the remains in a jar, give it a name like "Hotter'n Blue Blazes," and he's a salsa-eating fool.
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