Let Scrubby try it

 

When will a mother learn? I have bought my children different kinds of the Gerber Graduates whenever I have seen a sale, since Isaac was little. Now and then. Thinking it was an easy thing to "have on hand." But they very rarely eat them. Very rarely appear to like them.

But I am a sucker for a sale, and they were having a huge sale on boxes of: Rice & Turkey in Gravy with green beans and carrots at the Commissary. So I bought a case of six of them.

Two nights ago, JB got home from work late, and I decided to make the kids' dinner. I pulled out three of these, heated them for the suggested 30 seconds in the microwave, and brought them outside. (We've been eating dinner outside anytime it is not raining.) And I served them with a side of yogurt and grapes.

All the kids sucked down the yogurt. Sucked down the grapes. But when it came time to eat the meals I had bought on sale, JB couldn't help but just crack up as he narrated the event. Firstly, there was Abigail who literally spit out the food at the moment it touched her lips. Abigail will eat almost anything so this was not a good sign. In fact, I tried to trick her -- giving her bites of yogurt but then switching to a bit of the Gerber food. But she would not be fooled. She started watching what I put on the spoon very carefully and pushing away the Gerber foods before they got near her and then opening up her mouth wide for the yogurt.

Then came Sidge. He, too, will try anything, and he did try both the vegetables and the chicken. His body started moving into spasms of full body shivers. This was the point that JB lost it and could no longer control his laughter.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said as he turned his head to try to prevent the kids from seeing him laugh.

"Just say it."

"Say what?"

"What you are thinking," I mumbled as another unsuccessful bite of carrots was pushed away by Abigail, and Isaac, our pickiest eater started gagging upon even smelling the food.

"I'm not thinking anything," JB replied, the laughter now unable to be hidden, even from the kids. "Okay. I am. I'm just wondering when you are going to give up on these things?"

I rolled my eyes. "Right now. I won't buy them again."

"The kids hate them every time you get them."

"No," I said. "That's not true. There's been a few kinds that they've ... tolerated."

"I betcha Scrubs wouldn't even eat these," he said.

"Yes he would," I said, and utterly defeated by the lack of success, stood up and picked each of the kids' trays. "That's it," I said. "No one has to eat these."

I saw the relief spread across my boys' faces and was instantly flashed back to my own childhood. A childhood in which my father, the main cook in our family, never threw away food. Except that one time. The night he tried to make fried okra. My brother and I watched, in absolute horror, as he brought out what looked like a bowl full of green snot and put it on the dining room table. We looked at each other. At my dad. At the snot. We knew my Dad well enough to know he never let food go to waste. The spoon dug into the bowl, he pulled it into the air. Snot. Long strands of thick, green ... oh ... please ... no .... eating that seemed to much to ask of anyone

And thank goodness it was. I still remember my dad shocking us both and saying, "We can't eat this. I have to throw it away. I can't believe I am saying this, but this is just too gross for me," he declared.

Praise the Lord for okra miracles.

And now my boys were breathing that same collective sigh of relief that my younger brother and I had breathed at the kitchen table in our mobile home so many years ago.

I walked over to Scrubs' food bowl. "We'll let Scrubby feast like a king tonight."

I walked over to his food dish and dumped all three of the meals into his bowl. "Enjoy your three dollar dinner doggie," I said to Scrubs and watched, with relief, as he scarfed it down happily.

And I suppose that's who will be eating the other three meals. At least it won't completely go to waste.

Lesson learned.

Better late than never.