Why, oh why, won’t you eat? Yesterday, you loved broccoli. Today, you look at it with disgust and make gagging noises if we try to put some into your mouth. For six months, you devoured pasta and cheese by the cupful, but now its presence on your tray is met with about as warm a reception as we would expect from a steaming pile of cat poop.
You probably do not realize this, but when I come home after a long day at work and spend half-an-hour preparing you a healthy and flavorful variety of foods, I cannot help but take it personally when you spend the next five minutes systematically, and gleefully, chucking the food, item by item, over the side of your tray as you shake your head “NO NO NO.”
I promise you, my dear sweet boy, that we are not trying to poison you. I know you would rather be chasing the kitties or climbing up the back of the sofa, and that mealtime is intruding on your more productive endeavors, but your rib cage is protruding and your diapers (already meant for a 9 month old) are falling off your bottom. We need to put some meat on your skinny little bones. Can’t you just cooperate a little? And, seriously, enough with the mashing of food into your eyes and hair. You hate it, I hate it, so why bother?
Oh, and one more thing, if you cannot be bothered to eat the food I prepare for you, please, for the love of God, at least have the decency to not spend the entirety of dinner screeching at the top of your lungs and throwing spoonfuls of yogurt at me while I eat.
Thanks in advance.