Because I'm afraid to put ingredients I can't pronounce into my children, I've been trying to make as much as I can from scratch. So, last night, I decided it was time to take an old favourite of ours, Cornflake Chicken (which is exactly what it sounds like--a chicken breast dipped in egg and then into seasoned, crushed cornflakes and baked) and adapt it so that my kids thought they were eating chicken nuggets.
It didn't fly. So to speak.
We've long since learned that battling with Rosemary's Baby over food is a waste of time. So when he doesn't eat, he just doesn't eat. We don't offer an alternate meal, and dessert isn't a regular thing around here anyway, so he sometimes goes to bed on an empty stomach. He's never given us any indication that he's bothered by this, and he's a pudgy little thing, so we're not worried about an occasional missed meal.
Firstborn, on the other hand, is old enough that we sometimes think we can persuade him just to try something new that he's refusing to touch. So last night, when he ate his french fries with gusto, but wouldn't eat the chicken, the old parenting tools came out.
First we implored him just to take a bite. When that didn't work, we started telling him about all the gross things our parents used to make us eat (sorry, Mom. Boxed fish cakes were vile!), and how he should be thankful we didn't do such things to him. Again, no dice. Then the Captain pulled out the big guns.
"Did you know that when we were kids, we had to eat everything on our plates, or there was no dessert?"
Firstborn, who is a little too smart for his own good, had an answer for this too.
"Yeah, well, it's not the olden days anymore."
For the record, bursting out laughing before your brain has the chance to start screaming "DON'T ENCOURAGE HIM!" doesn't help with these matters at all.