― Jonathan Safran Foer , Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
“We learn from failure, not from success!”
― Bram Stoker, Dracula
I believe I once described the Little Man as a picky - strike that - combatively restrictive eater. Perhaps one day I will tell you the little story of RDI and the Miracle of the Lemons, but today the topic of conversations is BANANAS.
Our Little Man loves bananas. In fact, bananas are the only fruit the Little Man will consume.
Unless, of course, you consider tomatoes a fruit. I don’t think I ever realized the was such a Tomato-Fruit or Vegetable-Kerfuffle until I just looked it up a minute ago. According to Wikipedia, while a tomato is “botanically a fruit, it is considered a vegetable for culinary purposes (as well as by the United States Supreme Court, see Nix v. Hedden), which has caused some confusion.” Well, I say. Seems like a tomato is a fruit, except when it isn't. Only in America!
Anyway, the problem with our Little Man and his love of bananas is that he is stuck on Gerber Stage 3 bananas.
You read that right. The only fruit eaten by our seven year old little boy is Gerber Stage 3 Bananas. I don’t know if it is a texture thing, or a routine thing, or an Autism thing. But whatever the H-E- double hockey sticks it is, the Little Man will not eat a regular banana. We have tried many times and many ways. Small chunks, wholes, halves, and, thanks to the Wiggles, mashed. No-no-No and “Heck No.”
Fortunately, however, his love of the liquefied stage 3 bananas allows us to use them a delivery mechanism for all kinds of fun supplements he would otherwise reject. Score!
Now back to the tomato. The Little Man loves pizza, so we started making pizza at home. The wife purchased some all natural sauce, which had small chunks of tomato in the jar. One night, they are a-making-ze-pizz-a-pie, and lo and behold, the Little Man downs, a spoonful of sauce, chunks of tomato and all! Better yet, he went back for more!
Not content to leave well enough alone, I had a brain storm. Or at least what I would call a brain storm. I think the wife called it a brain fart. (You, know To-MAY-To / To-MAH-To and all.) I cut up a few small piece of banana, about the size of the tomato chunks, and, unbeknownst to the Little Man, I hid them inside the liquefied Gerber Bananas. Damn, am I a genius, or what?
I sat innocently next to the Little Man, and slowly and calmly fed him the bananas. A couple of chunk-free spoon fills to whet the appetite, then it was time to unleash my brilliance. Here, comes the chunks…………….
Did you hear the screaming there?
In retrospect, it really wasn't that good of an idea. What kind of brain surgeon violates the trust of his dependent little boy, and hides something he really doesn't like in a jar of the only fruit he eats? I had to do some massive mea culpas in order to get the Little Man to trust me – and eat the chunk-free bananas again.
Thank goodness. I feel like the wrath of the wife in me spoiling the –vitamin delivering bananas – would have dwarfed the visceral primordial scream the little man gave when he discovered the hidden chunks of banana in his banana soup.
Now, back to my day job!