Henry has a morbid curiosity and when he asked me what would happen to him if Nick and I were to die, god forbid, I thought for a moment about telling him that he didn't need to worry about such things. Instead, I told him the truth, that he would go live with his aunt in New York. I searched his eyes for sadness and tears, but there was only one thing he wanted to know.
"Will Auntie make me eat stuff that I don't like?"
This kid still has some serious food issues.
After flunking out of food therapy two years ago, we've made very little progress. Actually, we're in the exact same place. Henry still only eats a couple of different things and refuses to try anything new. He continues to gag in the morning when he smells my breakfast and even though I can see it in his eyes that he's tired of chicken nuggets, the child won't touch anything else.
If asked to pinpoint exactly where I went wrong, I wouldn't know what to say. Lord knows, I've tried everything. I have some guesses though and I think I went wrong as far back as Brooklyn. (Nanny's fault!)
I do know enough about kids now to know that it's never too late to implement change and to make things better (I mean, I JUST now started 1-2-3 Magic. How did that book slip through the cracks?), but this food problem is a real doozy.
At this point I have given up and am waiting for maturity and peer pressure to come around and help me out. I'm still sneaking veggies into his waffles to ward off scurvy, but it will be a glorious day when we can walk into any restaurant we want without a McDonald's Happy Meal hidden in my handbag.
