One of the more memorable challenges I've encountered with children is their attitude about eating - now there are some children who don't stop thinking about snacks and have no problem downing a peanut butter sandwich faster than you can say 'hippopotamus'. But there are children who are either picky, indifferent, or just against the whole idea of eating in general. I understand this to a great extent, because to eat, you have to stop whatever it is you're doing. That might be reading a favorite book, building something in the sandbox, or concentrating on a drawing. To stop and stare into a plate of stuff that does nothing interesting is, well... really boring.
Even though I never had any problem being convinced to eat (as far as I can remember) my mother had some great ideas about how to make food fun. I vividly recall the plates she fixed for me where radishes were eyes, raisins were lashes, broccoli was hair, a carrot was the nose, and little squares of cheddar cheese were teeth. Slices of green pepper were ears, and rolls of some sort of lunch meat was the mouth. I vividly remember the giggles such presentations induced, and it must have left a deep impression, because when I began encounter little people who had issues with eating, I immediately resorted to 'food face'.
Instead of saying "Time to eat your oatmeal," I tried, "You're oatmeal is smiling now." And the quizzical 'huh?' look I got, followed by the padding of little feet over to the counter to see exactly how oatmeal could possibly 'smile', was utterly priceless. Without being asked, the little one who usually made the whole affair a difficulty dipped the spoon in, took a bite, and then declared "I just ate the oatmeal's nose!"
One of the funniest 'food faces' happened entirely by accident, when a little boy who was notorious for making eating a trip up Mount Everest, asked for an omelet with grape tomatoes and a pancake. The half-circle shape of the omelet went kerplop onto the plate first, and the size of the pancake left little room on the plate for the tomatoes, so I folded the pancake in half. Being the sort of person that is always a little childish, I lifted up the flap of the pancake, and made it 'talk' a little. Then I looked at the tomatoes, and got an idea. I put two in the omelet, and tucked one inside the pancake. When I put the plate down in front of my picky little eater, he burst into giggles, and said "Jorie, I didn't say I wanted a duck for breakfast!" But he ate every bite.
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