Adventures in Eating: Beyond the Kale

There are many things I find endearing about our middle child - how he signs "music" and "more" when he hears a melody he likes, how he demands to be noticed, waving and yelling "hello" to anyone and everyone we encounter, how he throws his arms around my legs and gives them a big squeeze while I am cooking dinner, and his infectious giggle. But from a purely practical point of view, perhaps the thing I am most thrilled about as a mother, is the fact that unlike his two siblings, who sneer and turn up their noses at the mere mention of fruits and vegetables, Russell relishes these succulent gems from the earth. Bowl after bowl of blueberries he will consume while Thomas and Elliot pick and pull at the skin, pain-filled expressions across their faces. Russell loves pineapple, strawberries, bananas, apples, tomatoes, especially those fresh from our backyard (thank you Grandma Johnson for the plants) and yes, even a bite from my spinach salad. Now to be fair to dear Thomas and Elliot, while their palate may be somewhat limited, both delight in hummus (don't forget, Elliot likes to eat his with a spoon), split pea soup, black beans, and lentils, so I must remind myself that perhaps my complaints are slightly unfounded.

As most of you know, in an effort to combat and gain victory in our family's constant war over fruit/vegetable eating, I have engaged in countless hours of steaming, pureeing, and freezing these vitamin-rich foods into ice cube trays so that at a later time, they can be thawed and unsuspectingly slipped into foods my picky eaters have deemed unobjectionable. A bit of sweet potato in the grilled cheese. Cauliflower in the scrambled eggs and potato soup. Carrots in the chili and spaghetti sauce. Pumpkin in the waffles and oatmeal. And kale. My goodness, a cube of kale can be thrown in about anywhere and remain undetected.

Not too long ago, at the suggestion of my favorite pediatrician, Dr. William Sears, in his work, The Healthiest Kid in the Neighborhood, I ventured to add thinly sliced zucchini to our Tuesday morning pancakes. This time, old Eagle eye, Thomas, called my bluff. "What are the green things?" he questioned. Quickly I contemplated my options: I could lie (which I must admit I have done before - "No, there are absolutely no tomatoes in this soup.") or be honest. This time, I opted for honesty, assuring Thomas that there was really no taste to the addition and that a bit of maple syrup covers a multitude of sins. After great dramatics, Thomas, not too willingly I might add, finally ate the pancakes.

The following week I decided to replace the zucchini and throw in one strawberry cube (why I cannot just make regular pancakes may indeed be indicative of some neurosis) and all hell broke loose. "WHAT ARE THOSE RED THINGS?" Thomas demanded. He spent the remainder of the meal pulling out miniscule pieces of strawberry while I clenched my mouth shut. Later that afternoon Thomas asked me what the green things in last week's pancakes had been. "Zucchini," I replied. His response: "Mom, next time can you add zucchini to the pancakes?" "Oh yes, my love", I thought, "and who knows, maybe some kale!"