Adventures of a picky eater

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that the world of picky eaters is one full of contradictions.

One day, my son devours a plate of perfectly grilled chicken, proudly telling me it’s his favourite food.

The next day, with a mere glance at the same chicken, he wrinkles his nose and says, “Chicken’s not healthy, mommy. It’s unhealthy, I don’t eat chicken” I stare at him, utterly baffled. When did chicken become a health villain?

But, of course, here’s where it gets even more interesting…

In the same week, we stopped for a take-away from KFC when a voice from behind politely asked: “Mommy can I have a bucket for one please? Can you also ask for the big piece of chicken (sidebreast)” and —and boom, suddenly chicken is delicious and his “favourite food ever” again, there is no discussion about healthy or unhealthy, don't even get me started on chicken nuggets.

He devours them in a way that could only be described as... enthusiastic.

I’m just over here, trying to maintain my sanity and avoid a breakdown, because clearly, my son’s logic is both unpredictable and unreasonably specific.

Then there’s the whole lunchbox situation. Lately, there’s been a very particular way his sandwich must be prepared.

I can’t just make a sandwich and cut it in half. No, no, no. It’s got to be more precise than that.

The crusts must be cut off. Then the bread needs to be sliced into two rectangles, two triangles, and one square. Yes, you read that right—a square.

I mean, I’m all for a little creativity in meal prep, but sometimes it feels like I’m trying to solve a puzzle rather than make lunch.

And, as much as it irks me to do this ritual every morning, I’ve found that if I cut his sandwich this exact way, he eats every last bit of it. If I don’t, there’s a protest, an untouched sandwich, and a reminder of why I should’ve followed the rules.

But wait, there’s more. It’s the new trend—notes in his lunchbox. I don’t know where he picked this up from.

Maybe one of his friends has a note, and he thought it was the coolest thing ever. Either way, now it’s a must-have for his lunch every day. “Mommy, can you write me a note for my lunchbox?” he asks, his eyes wide with that unmistakable look of expectation.

It’s such a sweet request, and I know it's a tiny gesture that boosts his confidence and makes him feel loved. So, I comply, because who could resist slipping a little heart-shaped note into his lunchbox when it makes him smile so wide?

But, of course, there’s always the matter of the picky eater. Even with the perfect note, the perfect sandwich, and the perfect chicken, he’s still my picky eater and I’ve learned to roll with it, at least there’s one thing he stuck with, peanut butter bread, he’d choose it over any other meal, so when I lose my mom-sanity in between the I don’t eats, I go to my hero, the peanut butter jar.

I’ve accepted that the world of picky eating is full of chaos, strange rules, and a constant balancing act. But no matter how picky he gets or how many notes I write, I wouldn’t change a thing. This is just another chapter in the adventure of motherhood, and one I wouldn’t trade for the world.

So, here’s to picky eaters, quirky lunchtime requests, and finding joy in the little moments—even if they involve strange sandwich cuts and chicken logic. At least we’re in this together.

Feel free to comment and share your story regarding your picky eater.

tracy-lynn.ruiters@inl.co.za

Weekend Argus