Feeding four kids can be tricky. I don’t think of my children as fussy as such, but if I’m honest they are probably a little set in their ways when it comes to food.
If I only had one child I’d probably make more of an effort to introduce new foods to them, but as I have to deal with one that won’t eat tomatoes, one who won’t eat anything sloppy, one that hates eggs and another that won’t eat meat that ‘looks like an animal’ on a daily basis, it’s a minor miracle that I ever manage to produce a meal that they can all eat.
Some days I slave over a hot stove for ages, cutting up ingredients and adding just the right amount of this and that, in my efforts to provide my precious offspring with a meal that is both nutritionally balanced and tasty.
That looks lovely doesn’t it? I assure you, my efforts look almost as good as the sample photo and if someone cooked it for me, I’d be delighted.
But are my children impressed? Unfortunately not.
They pour into the kitchen, nostrils twitching and asking ‘What’s for tea?’ When confronted by my casserole their faces fall, and as one they screw up their noses.
‘Ugh’, they cry. ‘That looks disgusting’ and ‘ I’m not eating that!’ All it takes is for one of them to express their doubts as to the palatability of the meal on offer and that’s it; I might as well save dishing it up and just chuck it straight in the bin.
Their plates sit untouched while they all make themselves a sandwich and eat an apple rather than eat their dinner.
I know there are those who say I shouldn’t even allow them to forage for themselves if they won’t eat their tea, but I’m not keen to make a battleground of our meal times. Been there, done that , got the scars.
But it seems that the likelihood of my children eating something I cook for them is inversely proportional to the amount of time I spend preparing the said meal.
Because, if I dish up pasta, pizza, chicken nuggets or fish fingers, there are no complaints and very little waste.