Our son doesn’t eat much in the way of what the rest of us call “food.” He drinks milk, and eats pizza, pasta, string cheese, apples, grapes, occasional bananas, strawberries, and chicken nuggets. I think that may be it. His only source of non-dairy protein comes from Tyson chicken nuggets.
Considering he’s five and a half, this is getting old. We cut him a little more slack than we gave Unfocused Girl, because of his food allergies — he needs to be comfortable saying “no” to food that might put him in the hospital — but enough is enough. We’ve been pushing him harder lately, and tonight at dinner, we told him he had to buckle down and eat some chicken that didn’t come in a breaded nugget the size of a fifty-cent piece and the shape of a Shmoo.
He fussed, he complained, he even started to fake cry a little, until Unfocused Girl said, “I bet you can’t finish your chicken before I finish mine.” BAM! The race was on, he ate every bite, smiling and trash talking her, and she even let him win.
Time to raise the Girl’s allowance.
The Unfocused Life 