Unrefined Palates

I find it ironic that American parents spend the first ten years of a child's life forcing them to eat, and the next 8  working overtime to compensate for the amount of food which that same child consumes.

Our pediatricians give us lists and brochures and websites to consult. We worry and fret over the lack of vegetables or the perfect balance of protein. There are now 50 types of milk to choose from; feel free to go fight with someone on the internet over which one is the best. Let's not even get started on bread, or high fructose corn syrup, or quinoa versus rice.

All young parents really need to understand is this: your children will one day insist that you never get good food at the grocery, and then they will proceed to devour everything like angry locusts.

I come in from a trip to the store with enough food for a week feeling pretty good. I've got meal plans and our budget's doing okay. I turn to find a place to cram the milk and when I turn back the children are all gone and there's just empty bags and crumbs. They'll even eat dry pasta.

Another scene that's common around here goes like this:

I'm making a new recipe and can't find the can of hearts of palm.

"Were those the white thingy's in that jar thing?"

"Yes," I say enthusiastically hoping my missing food will be returned without ransom.

"Yeah, I ate those."

Silent shriek.

"Did you like them?" I ask incredulously.

"No. They were gross."

 More silent shrieking.

Honestly, there's no happier day for my husband and I than we discover a food that they don't like.

"Hey, why don't you make sausage dish you do?"

"The kids hate that," I answer.

"Exactly," my sly man says.

Enough for us to eat and leftovers. Score!