someday...

The younger lad is just embarking on his Kindergarten year, but he and his older brother are already thinking about college:

elder lad: "When I'm in my third year of college, [my brother] will be in his first year... so we could be roommates."

younger lad: "yeah!!"

elder lad: "I'd get my own *crunchy* peanut butter."  (Some things never change, but I've never known him to opt for crunchy peanut butter over creamy; college does crazy things to some people.)

younger lad: "yeah!!"  (He doesn't even like peanut butter.  no matter.)

elder lad: "AND let's get salmon and tomatoes for sandwiches."

[?!]

younger lad: "yeah!!  and we'll make baking soda and vinegar volcanoes!!"

Nefarious plans for those volcanoes and other pranks of increasing shock-value follow as their conversation gets more and more excited.  Downstairs neighbors of these two characters, be forewarned...

brown baggin'

School has started for our bambini.  The elder lad is in second grade now, the younger lad is a wide-eyed kindergartener, and the elder lass is going to preschool two days a week ('twas her idea).  So far things are going well, though I always brace for a harrowing adjustment time the first few weeks(!) of school as everyone gets used to the new reality.

Along with the earlier wake up call, school days signal a return to packing lunches.  The lads like to eat school lunch when breakfast is on the menu, but otherwise they take their lunch.  The elder lass has to take her lunch.

from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban

Given my thorough treatment of picky eating preferences, I still try to keep things interesting as well as healthy and delicious in their lunchboxes. For ideas I pore over all the posts I can find on the subject, including this witty and informative post penned by my sweet friend Katie. I'm especially fascinated by the whole bento box movement, which places a premium on the presentation of food as a pathway to the food actually being eaten. I have yet to carve hot dogs into octopuses of cut out fruit in flower shapes, though. The closest I've gotten is my rainbow fruit skewer.

While some of the bambini are more open than others to variety in their lunchboxes (I won't name names), this passage from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban (we are, by the way, big time Frances fans) neatly sums up the attitude of at least one of our bambini when it comes to branching out a bit:

"How do you know what you'll like 

if you won't even try anything?" asked Father.

"Well," said Frances,

 "there are many different things to eat,

and they taste many different ways.

But when I have bread and jam

I always know what I am getting, and I am always pleased."

Frances may not be open to spicing things up a bit (at least not at the beginning; I won't spoil the ending), but at least she and her friend Albert take a real lunch break to enjoy their food.

from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban

With the prospect of recess looming for kids who are hungry but eager to burn off some pent-up energy, lunch is less leisurely, more pit-stop-esque, there's hardly time for doilies and tiny vases of violets...

good news • bad news • good eats

This can't be good:

our washing machine presently

...especially when we're going on a week with a nasty virus afflicting most of us (the elder lad and I are the holdouts).  One might expect that a few days with an offline washer might mean I'd catch up a little, but alas this is not the case.

Downer as that may be, I am happy to report that the elder lad has been branching out a bit from his standard fare, eating more fresh fruit and even some vegetables.  He says broccoli is his favorite, but he and his sister (the three-year-old elder lass) made short work of some of our backyard garden-fresh peas.

Lass could use a manicure.

We had planned to use those peas in a stir-fry for dinner, but our little field hands took a hefty "fee" for their picking work.  That's alright. 

Speaking of stir-frying, that's what I'm writing about today at Foodie Proclivities.  Check it out here.  Have I ever mentioned that my beloved and I lived in the same high-rise residence hall for a semester but never once met?

He lived in the guys' tower and I lived in the girls' tower, but the two towers shared a cafeteria with a wok station (about which I reminisce further in the post at Foodie Proclivities; please do click over).

I can't help but wonder how many times we were in that cafeteria -- maybe even wok-ing -- at the same time.  The Lord sure does have a sense of humor.  He knew it wasn't yet time for us to meet.  I had to work on my stir-frying skills...

appetizing idea

The elder lad was at his persuasive best trying to convince the younger lad to try macaroni and cheese for dinner:
"You'll like it.  It tastes like Cheez-Its [the current favorite after school snack -- junior Scrabble style, please] but gummy like gummies."

appetizing (?) juxtaposition of flavors... and why the fascination with gummy fruit snacks?  Why?

"Maybe for breakfast," the younger lad -- ever the diplomat -- hedged...

... he opted for a mini bagel with cream cheese instead.

aloha, annie

My sister the college freshman was in our vicinity this afternoon and thus was able to stop by and liven up our after school happy hour. Her arrival on our doorstep was heralded by squeals of delight from the younger lass.

To thank my sister -- the bambini call her "annie", I fed her a home-cooked Hawaiian-style meal.  (details here at Foodie Proclivities)

It wasn't quite the genius meal my beloved's dear mother made for us this past weekend that I was hoping to replicate, but the marinade I made up miraculously came out pretty good -- even though the younger lad, who mixed the concoction for me, kept saying that "something was missing."  How he knew this without trying the potion, I know not.

At least there were no "incidents" to speak of...

I stand corrected.

My efforts to entice the younger lad to consume something protein-aceous (other than yogurt) are falling very, very flat.  Even string cheese, which he sometimes will eat.  I show him the funny string cheese fella on the package and all he can do, such as kicking soccer balls, shooting basketballs, and riding a bike -- all things the lad loves to do.

"I already tried those when I was two!" the four-year-old lad says.

"What?  You remember that?"  I am incredulous.

"Yes!" He is surer than sure.

"I think you are pulling my leg," I tell him.
Indignant, he declares: "no I'm not!  I'm far away from you!"

snow day snacks

Venn diagram of snacks:

One lad requests plain, dry O-shaped cereal. The other lad likes raisins.  This we know.  The lass will take some of each.

petit appetit

I make no secret of my bambini's selective food inclinations.  They get it from their mother. 

The creations by Saxton Freymann and Joost Elffers featuring food carved into all kinds of things like animals, cars, trucks, and houses grace the pages of several stories for children (and foodies), including simple books like Baby Food and Dog Food, short stories in verse like Fast Food, and longer imaginative stories like One Lonely Seahorse, Gus and Button, and Dr. Pompo's Nose.  In this day and age where some children don't know what a tomato is, the "Play with Your Food" phenomenon this duo has begun is an able -- and fun -- antidote to that ignorance.  How Are You Peeling? is a valuable tool for helping children develop emotional intelligence -- knowledge of both their own emotions and the vital skill of empathy for others.  Simple text labels the incredible range of expressions on the fruits and vegetables.  Food for Thought is another great teaching tool for basic concepts. 

The ageless struggle between parents and children to get children to eat what's given to them is given a new spin in Sugar Would Not Eat It, written by Emily Jenkins and illustrated by Giselle Potter.  Leo adopts a stray kitten on the day after his birthday.  He names her Sugar and decides she must be hungry, so he offers her the last slice of his birthday cake.  But Sugar would not eat it, in spite of the threats, guilt trips, nagging, and bellowing he directs her way as he's heard his friends and neighbors describe of their own similar experiences.  In the end, the last slice of cake *does* get eaten -- by whom you can probably guess.

Giselle Potter has illustrated (and written, in some cases) a few other books we've liked, including Eugene Field's poem Wynken, Blynken, and Nod; Three Cheers for Catherine The Great; The Little Piano Girl: The Story of Mary Lou Williams, Jazz Legend; and Chloe's Birthday... And Me.

Cautious as we are in our food choices, there are some tasty books out there to satisfy even our pickiest palates ...

chowhounds

What is up with these lads -- especially the elder one?  Eating *entire* bagels with peanut butter?  Fresh -- not freeze-dried -- strawberries?  Those "saucer" peaches -- seen 'em?  Ham and cheese sandwiches?

Grilled turkey?!

And now the younger one is even eating entire halves of bagels with cream cheese -- not just quarters!   They're keeping pace with their sister, whose appetite has only increased since her first dabblings in solid food.

I think I better brace myself.  This could be serious.  I already bought the lad's uniform pants.  Will they fit when school starts?

cheesy goodness

This is Quattro's "due date," but I'm not going there.  Instead, I'm waxing nostalgic about true comfort food from my childhood: cheese grits.  I consider it an appropriate way to mark the day, as many times these have been the only thing that sounded even remotely appealing to this pregnant mama green around the gills (at least in previous pregnancies).

paradigm shift

In a startling break from tradition, I have posted a marinade recipe over at Foodie Proclivities rather than some baked good or beverage.  Even more alarming is what transpired at dinner last night:

elder lad: "Mom, tonight I'm going to try some of Dad's grilled chicken" (using the aforementioned marinade recipe).

And he did! *and* baked potato *and* some of the yellow "pinkheart" heirloom tomato my beloved brought in from the backyard. 

By "some" I mean the teeniest little smidgen of a taste -- if you can really even call it that -- but the willingness to even attempt that still has me stupefied.  This is after he tried (in a similar fashion) some fresh local corn off the cob the previous night!

Who is this child?

He *has* been saying that he'll try these things when he gets older, and he *has* been talking about being a bigger boy now that he's five.  He's a lad of his word.

menu planning

We just finished breakfast, but the lads are already thinking about the evening meal.

"What would you like for dinner, ma'am?" the elder lad asks, Color Wonder marker and paper in hand.  He has informed me that we are at Ted's, one of their favorite Mexican restaurants (they only eat chips and either queso or salsa, depending on the lad, kind of like their mother used to do).

I dutifully give him my order.

"What would you like to drink?" the younger lad (wearing a tool belt rather than an apron) inquires.

"Maybe some peach lemonade?"

"We only have water."

The elder lad designed this menu for his brother today: ham sandwich, macaroni & cheese, Sun Chips, fruit punch, and lemonade -- not that any of this is standard fare around here. 

is this a compliment?

"Mom, this pasta isn't good *or* bad.  It's just right."
-- elder lad

Um... thank you?

it's what's for dinner

By now loyal readers are familiar with the various idiosyncrasies of the collective bambini palate here.  As a refresher, the lads are carbivores.  How they do love their baked goods.  They do like bacon (and, ahem, chicken McNuggets, once in a blue moon), but other than that, it's slim pickins for protein diversity in their respective cases.  We do try to use as much whole wheat flour, wheat germ, and flax seed meal as we can in our baking to up the protein content.  We keep offering a variety of healthy foods.  It's up to them to eat it, though. 

The younger lad loves his "ma-muh", the drinkable yogurt we blend up almost daily, so I take some solace in knowing that it's rich in protein in the form of milk and yogurt (sometimes even Greek yogurt) and contains minimal sugar to make it a fairly decent source of nutrition for him (and the lass, who calls it "go-gur").  He is also a fruit lover.

The elder lad's primary source of protein is peanut butter (we get the natural kind).  He will have nothing to do with the yogurt homebrew.  Trouble is, he's been having an intermittent but persistent (thankfully not emergent, though, at least so far) allergic reaction to *something*.  We're not sure if it's environmental, has something to do with shampoo or laundry detergent, or food-related; in case it's the last of those, we've been trying to ferret out the source by eliminating certain potentially allergenic foods such as the berries he has only recently began trying in the form of some flavored organic yogurt and fresh or frozen fruit in smoothies -- and his trusty peanut butter.

A few days into this exercise, we're still seeing symptoms and he's still very itchy.  I'm not sure how long the body takes to rid itself of proteins from peanut butter and berries (if that's even the cause); I know it takes a couple of weeks to eliminate dairy proteins from one's system when one is on that course (which we're not -- yet). 

So if peanut butter is off the menu, what will he eat?   Good question.  Please keep him in your prayers as we try to figure out what's causing him such obvious discomfort.

cool as a cucumber

The first yield from our lovingly constructed and tended backyard garden: a wee little radish -- ruby red and charming enough sliced and dressed with a little olive oil and balsamic vinegar to merit not one but *two* enthusiastic tastes from the elder lad followed by -- get this -- a declaration that radishes are his favorite vegetable.  (Nevermind that the competition for this title was not fierce.)

After this he went on to eat "ten or so" black seedless grapes (no exaggerating this time).  Heretofore, he has eschewed fresh fruit in favor of either dried fruit or fruit juice.  Suffice it to say that Mama is stupefied by his enthusiastic consumption of these vittles (but I tried to play it as cool as I could).

The black seedless grapes selected by the younger lad are, by the way, quite a sensation around here.  Everyone is raving over them.  Granted, Mama isn't too keen on the juice stains appearing all over everything.  I'll have to resort to my stain fighting tactics.  But if it means the elder lad is eating fresh fruits and vegetables, I am willing to deal with the aftermath...

Russell Hoban's Frances books

Russell Hoban's books about a clever badger named Frances and a handful of lovingly-constructed cohorts have a way of finding themselves checked out on my library card at just the right time.  They are repeat checker-outers.   And they speak on some aspects of life familiar to all children (and their parents) in an insightful, humorous way. 

In Bread and Jam for Frances, Frances has an unswerving devotion to bread with jam that rivals my elder lad's preference for bagels with peanut butter for nearly every meal.   She turns up her nose at the eggs her mother serves for breakfast (happily devoured by Frances's baby sister -- sound familiar?  It is at our house.) in favor of the stand-by.  At lunch, she has no interest in the varied and colorful meal her friend Albert brings (complete with little salt and pepper shakers and a host of foodstuffs); she's happy with her bread and jam.  For dinner she will have none of the veal cutlet her father so eagerly enjoys.  She's having... bread and jam.  Her mother catches on to this and serves her only bread and jam, not even offering her what everyone else is having.  Interesting strategy with telling results... maybe it would work here, though it might already be working out that way.  More than a few times now, the lad has said "I'm tired of bagels and peanut butter."

With the three-year-old lad's birthday having just passed, A Birthday for Frances could not be more timely.  Frances's baby sister Gloria is having a birthday, and Frances is struggling with the fuss being made -- even though she has been reassured that her upcoming birthday will merit similar festivities.  Their father takes Frances to choose a birthday present for Gloria.  Frances hems and haws over whether to actually give Gloria the present until the very last moment, verbalizing the internal conflict she feels in her signature song-like way.

Now might be a good time for me to disclose my predisposition to liking the name Frances, as it was my grandmother's.  She went by Fran and was about five-foot-two.  

Frances learns a heartening message about befriending one's sibling in Best Friends for Frances after her buddy Albert tells Frances she can't accompany him on a boy's-only outing.  Frances and Gloria load up their hamper with all kinds of yummy foods (I'm guessing this is after her bread-and-jam-only phase), run into Albert along the way (who would love to help them eat all the food in the hamper), and cautiously allow him to come on their outing.  What will this mean for the budding friendship between the sisters? 

This series also includes Bedtime for Frances, A Baby Sister for Frances, and A Bargain for Frances.  Originally written in the 1970's, there are timeless elements to these stories that make them pertinent to kids and parents today.  The era-specific references increase their charm.

the end of an era

Making homemade pizza tonight, I query the bambini as to their topping preferences.

Elder lad: cheese (of which he ate none once it was baked -- he put the olive oil, spices, and toppings on but wouldn't eat the finished product)

Younger lad: "pepperoni." 

"What?"  I had to ask.  I was expecting to hear "penny-no-nee", but instead he said "pepperoni."

*sniff* the end of an era...

future foodies

My lads might be selective in their food choices, but they sure can speak about them articulately:

The elder lad, when asked if he wanted some veggie chips in his lunch for school like he'd had at dinner the previous night: "No. They're too zesty for school."
 
The younger lad, enjoying some homemade jam made with love by one of my beloved's aunts and her family on his biscuit, described it as "very tasty."  When I told him who had made it, he said "that was very kind of her to share it with me."

Indeed.  Maybe someday they'll be posting such keen observations alongside their auntie and mama.

As for the lass, she might prove to be the next Nigella Lawson (whose lexicon and wit I admire very much).  My girl's healthy appetite is quite varied, and I suspect her burgeoning vocabulary (presently consisting of a few signs and an impressive array of vocalizations and facial expressions) might rival that of Nigella's someday.

chocolate in good conscience

I am pretty much addicted to this chocolate peanut butter granola.  My selective four-and-a-half year old lad is, too.  It's a healthy snack with a touch of chocolaty-peanut-buttery goodness -- offering protein, endorphins, fiber, and a touch of sweetness.  Fabulous!

picky eaters

You'd think Mary Ann Hoberman might know something about picky eaters from her book The Seven Silly Eaters.   Each of the seven children will only eat one specific thing, but none of them eat the same thing: milk heated to a certain temperature, homemade applesauce, fresh squeezed pink lemonade, oatmeal, eggs prepared two different ways... 

Sounds like our house.

The nine-month-old lass seems to be the most adventurous eater thus far.  She's interested in everything, including -- to our great astonishment given her brothers before her -- vegetables.   On the advice of our pediatrician, I've never been in a rush to introduce foods to the babes (we've waited to introduce them -- one at a time -- until their six month birthdays at least).  "I'll have what you're having," she seems to say.  She's got the right attitude, I think, and I'm trying to honor it by offering her what I'm eating (with reasonable precautions taken, obviously).

One of our favorite book series features Charlie and Lola, a British brother and sister duo, by Lauren Child.  I think it started as a television series in Britain and is now on an American channel that we don't receive, but we've checked the videos out from our library.  Our elder lad's favorite among the many stories we now know well is I Will Not Ever Never Eat A Tomato.  Lola rattles off a laundry list of foods she will not eat.  Charlie proves himself a master at marketing.  I won't spoil the ending, but you see where this is going....

I've tried to follow the adage that little people (specifically babies and toddlers) will eat what they need, and to consider their nutritional intake on a weekly basis rather than daily. But I'm also resorting to some more covert maneuvers, adding pureed vegetables, beans, and legumes to foods the lads like (such as chocolate chip cookies) a la The Sneaky Chef and Deceptively Delicious.  This is tricky business, though, because as much as I can I try to cook *with* my children, which leaves little room for sneakiness.  I'm up front with the ingredients I'm adding in, usually saying something like "this will make it more healthy, but you won't necessarily taste it." 

All this food fussiness can incite much frustration.  But honestly, they get it from their mother.