 You could say he has a picky palette. He can't have two favorite
foods at the same time. It's as though his body can't accept so many
different foods at once.
There was a time, long ago, when my son would eat a peanut butter
and grape jelly sandwich, blissfully unaware that one day I would
make him a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich. Then he
would encounter something so vile that he would no longer eat jelly.
That something? ... a strawberry.
From that time forward, he has eaten only peanut butter, only on
honey wheat bread; no jelly. At some point, he decided that the
crust was the best part of the bread. It took quite a bit of
mom-inspired harassment to get him to eat a piece of bread that
wasn't crust. After all, there are only two pieces of bread in a
loaf that would qualify for his strangely restricted palette, and
they are at opposite ends of the loaf.
Our bread loaves always looked like a train wreck.
After years of eating only plain peanut butter sandwiches, my son
was set in his ways, or "way" in his case ... . If only he had ways.
One year he went through a short-lived FlufferNutter phase but
ultimately decided that nothing could top his beloved peanut butter,
straight up.
Then, one day, two weeks ago, something rocked his well-ordered,
peculiar world. I was grocery shopping and noticed something that
looked like a melted chocolate bar in a jar. I had not eaten before
I went shopping. That was a mistake.
Melted chocolate in a jar? I couldn't think of a single reason
not to buy it. As if by magic, and without my committed consent, it
jumped into my cart.
I dreamed about how it would taste on a piece of raisin bread
when I brought it home.
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 I have gone back to that store three times in the past two weeks
just to buy a jar of sinfulness. During these two weeks, I have
managed to snag only one piece of chocolate raisin bread. I keep
buying more with the hope that one jar will last long enough to have
another. I don't know how my son eats the whole jar so fast!
Especially without crust!
I have come to the conclusion that, since my son hit puberty, he
has turned into an alien. I have no real proof, because I have not
seen it, but I believe his tongue is actually a proboscis that he
sticks into the jar. Then he inhales it all in one gulp. What other
explanation can there be?
My son and I went to the grocery store together to buy the last
jar of yumminess. As usual, the Nutella jumped into the cart while I
blinked.
In the same aisle, the display of peanut butter was huge. It
waited for my son to choose one. His world had been turned upside
down. He realized that his old peanut butter could never make him
feel like he feels with Nutella.
For old time's sake, and perhaps hoping it would make a rebound,
he chose a "whipped" peanut butter rather than his normal "creamy."
I recognized this as a last-ditch effort to save the
relationship, but I don't think it'll ever be the same again.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated
columnist, author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
