Mealtime

Food is one of my reasons for being both in the literal sense as well as a spiritual one. It’s rare I come across a food item that I don’t enjoy.  When I was pregnant with my second I had that pico syndrome where I also liked non-food items such as dirty ice. I craved ice like I was a addict and the dirtier the better.  Thankfully that quickly dissipated after baby was born.

My brother and I have always been good eaters. I remember the first time we went to Legal Seafood as kids and my brother tried caviar. He got a huge spoonful and not wanting to admit his party foul did his best to put it back. 

Then there’s the story of the time I drink half a bottle of soy sauce. What can I say? I’ve always been a fan of salt. When I had my own children I never even considered that they wouldn’t be good eaters. I thought how hard could this be, I’m the boss (Side note: I am dictating this as we finish our alfresco lunch and my toddler just told me no you’re not the boss you’re the mom). 


Turns out these little guys are stronger than their soft skin and tiny toes would lead one to believe.  Overall they have been good eaters. Just like they were easy sleepers meal times have not been that much of a struggle other than the tendency for food to get everywhere. I mean they still lean towards the carbs no doubt. But I just keep putting out food and they keep trying it slowly.

My neighbor, who I will call the visiting professor, does a great job of making sure her daughter eats healthy.  From the time she was a baby, the visiting professor has been mindful of the amount of sugar her daughter takes in. Crafting cakes for birthdays with applesauce replacing the sugar and so on. It’s impressive and inspires me to do better. Recently I joined her and her daughter on a berry picking trip. We had a great time and came home with a delicious haul. One of those berry picking trips turned into a most tasty blackberry syrup. 

I stood in the kitchen with her while she mashed berries and hot water steamed from the pots. Our girls running around finding things to stick in their mouth and toys to fight over.  She sent us home with a jar of blackberry syrup and a promise of delightful breakfasts to come.

The next morning her promise came through as the handyman dropped sweet potato pancake batter onto the griddle. It should’ve come as no surprise to me that he made perfectly shaped silver dollar sized cakes. But it did. Hath this mans skills no limit?

My oldest helped by putting dollops of homemade yogurt, also a gift from the visiting professor, onto the pancakes. What followed was indeed a delightful breakfast. 

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