So What? Your Kid Doesn't Eat A Plain Hot Dog Bun For Dinner?

(Hayden, circa 2005, eating butter for dinner)

I have six siblings. I grew up learning to get along with all different types of personalities. Even though we were raised by the same parents, we all have very different traits. One thing about us that differs is what we like to eat and how we like to eat. We had a couple picky eaters in the bunch. I'm not going to name names. Who am I kidding? Yes I am. Becky, the youngest, is one of them. Food isn't important to her like it is to me. She spent the first 18 years of her life living off food like sliced bananas with milk and sugar, cold cereal and melted Kraft cheese slices on a plate. She also happens to be the thinnest sister (I'm not bitter, no not at ALL bitter).

I just couldn't wrap my head around it. How could potato casserole with apricot chicken move me to happy tears, and not even make her blink an eye? Food just isn't as big a source of joy for her as it is for me. Other things make her happier than ice cream.

I gave up trying to figure out how to be more like her when it came to food. I found that enjoying eating food, also meant I enjoyed making food. I like cooking. I like baking even more. I'm infamous at work for my cookies. It brings me joy to love people with food.

Then life threw me a curve ball.

I gave birth to, not one, but TWO picky eaters. What?!! How could this be? How could life be so cruel?

So now I love them, even though they don't love my food. I mean, I would really love it if they chose to eat vegetables sometimes, but I'll love them even if they get scurvy.

Hayden summed it up yesterday when he told my dad, "I eat to survive, Grandpa, not to thrive."

Where in the heck did he get that from? Thanks Hayden, for adopting such a lofty philosophy in life. And thanks for teaching it to your brother. Now go eat some spinach.

Kennel Trained

We are babysitting my sister's dog while she's out of town. She's a super mutt like our dog (code for-we have no idea what kind of dog she is) named Tiki. She is a very good dog with a bit of anxiety about being left alone. So she's kennel trained. This pleases my three year old. This is how our conversation about Tiki's kennel goes.

Jake: Ticky!(that's how he pronounces her name) Get in your trap!

Me: That's called a kennel, Jake, not a trap.

Jake: Get in your tunnel, Ticky!

Me: Kennel

Jake: Tunnel!

Me: Close enough. She only goes in her kennel when we leave the house. She doesn't go in there any other time.

Jake: Ticky likes her tunnel. She wants to go in the tunnel.

Me: Leave the kennel alone. Let's go get______ (insert coloring book, snack, toy here)!

Jake: No, gotta get Ticky to her tunnel.

Me: Jake, I'm going to put her kennel in the garage.

In the meantime, Tiki is frantic because she can't tell if she's supposed to be anxious about us leaving, so I put her in the backyard to calm down while the kennel/tunnel is removed. As I walk to the kennel to put it in the garage I start talking to Jake.

Me: Jake,what do you want for lunch? Jake? Jacob?! Where did you go?

He was very happily locked in the kennel. I'm thinking of keeping it.
You probably shouldn't have given me any ideas, kid.

Pictures of Hayden That I Love

Do you ever look through old pictures on the computer for fun? I do. All the time. I'm telling you, Hayden is a beautiful child. And in case you had forgotten that, I've put up some of my favorite shots, never before seen on this blog (I think they haven't made an appearance yet....)

Woo Hoo! He's a cutie!