The other night, we had a battle in our house. Well, at our dinner table to be more precise. Who hasn’t had dinner table battles? The rule at our house is, you have to try everything at the table. You do not have to clean your plate, nor do you have to eat a daddy-size portion of something you hate- but you must eat a bite of whatever we are having.
I don’t make really nasty things- I don’t make my kids eat brussel sprouts, or beets or even lima beans. But peas? Fresh, plump and tasty peas? Not the canned, grey, ucky ones. Nice peas.
Back to my story: Broiled chicken, peas, and rice pilaf. I added applesauce to the kids plates. Okey dokey. We know Jeffrey doesn’t like peas, so I don’t make them all that often- but he has to try one. ONE pea. One. Yes, only one pea. For heaven’s sake, you can swallow it with milk and not even taste it- you can bury it in your applesauce and never know- trust me, this is what I did with my lima beans when I was a kid.
Nope. Not my pigheaded Monkey. After much crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth, my biggest Monkey decided he would rather miss family night, and go to bed, than eat that one small pea. One small pea. We are changing his name to Princess.