Cooper is a good eater. He eats when he’s hungry and doesn’t when he’s not. If he misses a meal or two when he’s sick or grazes lightly for a few days, I’ve never had to worry about it. I’ve never really adjusted what I cook for him (except when he was just starting to eat solids). I don’t even really adjust the spices for him. He loves all kinds of things. He loves salsa, chili, soups and even curry. He always wants to try whatever I’m eating or whatever I’m cooking. This is a good thing, right? Except when he’s desperate to try things like flour. Yes, flour. For a long time I told him that we don’t eat flour, that it was yucky, and that he would eat it as part of the final product. Those things somehow never seemed to satisfy him though.
The next time he asked, I had a brilliant idea. I’m the adult here. I’m the one with the more developed brain. I can outsmart this kid. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? If he’s so desperate to taste the flour, I’ll let him taste it. Then he can see that it is gross, and he’ll quit asking. So I put a tiny bit on my finger, secretly grinning at the pleasure of putting a stop to the constant begging to eat the flour, and gave him a taste.
“Yummmmm…More.”
What?!
“More.”
I’m not sure why I didn’t learn my lesson on that one. I applied the same tactic to salt.
“More.”
Coffee.
“More.”
Frozen French fries.
“More.”
Yes, folks, I’ve been continually outsmarted by a person who calls himself “Coo Coo.”
