After cooking at an assisted living facility, I believed the elderly had to be the pickiest people on earth. One woman had a plain, broiled chicken breast and a scoop of mashed potatoes for lunch and dinner every day. One man requested that all carrots be picked out of his mixed vegetables. And cooking any type of haute cuisine? Forget about it.
But then I returned to babysitting, a job I had always loved. Kids are picky. I'm used to kids sneaking sweets and pushing peas around on their plates pretending they ate them. But they were never as bad as the elderly. And then I met her. The choosiest, prissiest most stubborn eater yet: a three-year-old monster who gnashes on chicken nuggets and chocolate ice cream till her mouth is sticky and brown, but tears up at the sight of a vegetable.
I never thought my most challenging customer would be a child under the age of 5. But apparently, I've been lucky in the past, because I keep reading articles about picky eaters and ways to "trick" them into eating and hearing parents talk about how they can't get their child to eat anything but fast food.
Because I am not yet a parent, I can't really say it is the parents to blame. Maybe it is their parenting style, or lack thereof, but maybe it's something deeper. All I know is it's a bitch.
But, in the long run, it's probably helping me: helping me cleverly hide healthy ingredients, helping me be patient with people not as adventurous as I am and helping me find creative ways to cook with limited choices .
And, as much as I pray and hope and plead that I will not have picky children, at least I know I will be ready, just in case I do.
