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Saturday, June 02, 2007

Tenacity

When I mention that my son has a limited diet, many people are sympathetic. Many people experience the child who only eats a diet of pizza, chicken nuggets and other fast food items. My son eats "none of these" things, with the exception of fries. [translation = chips] Currently he enjoys a diet of some 17 exclusive items. Whilst I take many opportunities to widen his diet, I’m not in the least averse to a little help from any quarter. [translation = I have no shame]

I am up a ladder in the kitchen replacing the camping items. It is a galley kitchen. [translation = major thoroughfare with the family room and garage at one end, and access to the rest of the house at the other end.] My daughter pursues her little brother with a vengeance. I stand back and let her do her stuff. I have no idea why she has suddenly got a bee in her bonnet, but I’m more than happy to give her free reign, if only for my own amusement. The bag of salty pistachio nuts was a treat for the camping trip. My eldest son is the nut aficionado, like his Dad. My daughters like nuts, but they can more or less take them or leave them. Junior has yet to eat a nut, any nut. Even the universal peanut butter is poison to him.

Junior now likes salt, preferably from the salt cellar in a continuous stream. [translation = the consequence of permitting ordinary household items to exist without being bolted down or locked up]

She grasps a handful of pistachio nut shells, not the nuts. She’s eaten the nuts herself. She figures that the shell without the nut, salt covered, would be a great preliminary step, shell licking, prior to nut licking. I’m with her. It’s a sound theory. A shell is an inert thing, not a nut, a mere casing and not food.

“Lick it!” she commands. Junior makes rooster noises in response and legs it. translation = runs away very fast] She is nine and a half, and fit. He is six and a half but he has greater motivation on his side. [She stomps after him, “Come here you! You’ll like it, it’s salty, hmmm yummy, I just love it, you’ll like it too, give it a go.” Jumping Jack flash is still careening all over the house, utilizing a zig zag running approach to throw her off the scent. “Stop it! Stop it now! Stand still or I’ll sit on yah!” she bellows. Still shriller shrieks are emitted from Sparky as she hunts him down, a squib on the loose. “Just lick it. You love salt, you’ll love this, it’s great,” she persuades.
“Come here you little monkey!” she squalks, getting breathless. Junior responds with monkey noises and swings his body around the newel post of the staircase with aplomb. His agility is startling and his tippy toe escape sounds like a machine gun on the wooden floor.

They traverse through the kitchen, back and forth on switch backs. “I’m gonna get you!” she taunts, more positive than practical. Squeaky now has springs under his feet and wings for arms, so light on his feet, as fleet as a hummingbird. [translation = but a lot noisier] “They’re just shells darn it! There’s no nut, just the shell, the salty shell, it’s not even food!” she barks with frustration. “They’re only……er……..made of….? What are nut shells made of mum?” she asks, leaning against the ladder for a breather whilst junior sputs and spurts.
“Well, they’re er. … made of……woody….” I’m saved from declaring my ignorance as she hares off after her prey. “Stop it. Stop running. You know I’m gonna win,” she declares without any corroborative evidence. They dodge around the sofa, each vying for position. “Listen, sea shells aren’t food right? So nut shells aren’t food either. You’d lick a salty sea shell wouldn’t ya? This is no different it’s just a shell!” She launches herself over the body of the sofa, but he’s off like a whippet at the starter gate, miles ahead. They streak back through the kitchen. She pauses. “Why won’t he lick em Mom? Aren’t they just like sea shells? What are sea shells made of?”
“Well….they’re er…..made of……” Junior skates past again darting hither and thither like a beserk clockwork mouse. She plops herself down on the floor, “I just don’t get it. What is his problem?” I step down from the ladder and hunker down next to her, beads of sweat forming on her brow.


“Thanks for trying lovie, but maybe we can find better ways?”
“I thought that was a better way.”
“I know you did dear, very logical, and I think he was having fun really. I think you’re right, that making food more fun is a good way to go.”
“Do you remember when we made things out of mini marshmallows and cocktail sticks?” she beams.
“I do.”
“Didn’t work though huh!”
“Well he "touched" them and after a few days, he would join in and make them too.”
“Do you remember when we played finger soccer with peas? That was fun too.”
“I do.”
“Do you remember when we made faces outta fruit?” I listen to her list the many ways in which we have attempted to entice her brother to at least be on touching terms with food stuffs. It is a very long list. I’m surprised that she remembers so many of them.
“Do you know what?”
“What dear?”
“I told my friend about the funny things we do with him.”
“Oh yes.” I wait, her shoulders curl inwards, her chin drops ever so slightly, her fringe languishes over her eye lashes.
“They said that he was weird.”
"Indeed!"
"I know," she sighs, "everyone is different, it's o.k. to like different things," she parrots back at me. There's nothing like a direct quote to make your appreciate the full banality of your own words. [translation = tolerance sounds so feeble]
“Ah! Well…..did you have fun doing those things? He started to have fun too. As long as we’re happy doing the things that we’re doing, and not hurting anyone else, then I don’t think it matters what "other people think?” Now there's fighting talk!

4 comments:

Mary P Jones (MPJ) said...

Oh, the food thing! My son eats 3 things, yep, count 'em, 3! And drinks milk, if that counts as a food. Since he doesn't drink water or juice, I do definitely have to at least count it as a beverage.

His little sister does the same thing sometimes: chases him around the house with food saying, "Come on, buddy! Don't you want a little lick? How about a taste on your lip? You'll like it. It tastes good!" He has yet to do anything other than run from her, screaming.

Joeymom said...

Joey eats goldfish, chicken nuggets, french fries, hot dogs, turkey meatballs (woo-hoo!), macaroni and cheese, American cheese, crackers, soft breads, cheetos, potato chips, corn chips, taco meat, chocolate, chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal cookies, apples, strawberries, bananas, raspberries, ice cream, and any vegetable I put in cottage cheese.

I finally got him to eat the tops off asparagus yesterday, bu only because Oobi and Uma like asparagus.

This is a greatly expanded menu since Christmas, when for some reason he would only eat hot dogs, M&C, cottage cheese and vegetables (and only peas, lima beans, or green beans in it), cookies, goldfish, and apples. We're coming right along!

What's weird is when Joey was a baby, he loved anything you put in his mouth. His favorite food was scrambled eggs... and the cottage cheese thing. What a weird texture to like best.

Jessica said...

Oh my, sounds just like our house. How frustrated i can get when I just KNOW he will like it but he won't try it. "just take a lick, try a no-thank-you-bite, you'll love it. It's sweet, you like sugar, this tastes just like sugar, maybe it's even made from sugar. No? Come on, just a lick.". UUGGGHH!

Melissa said...

My oldest is starting to have trouble with friends understanding his autistic brother. He has always stood up for him and been such a good friend to his little brother. I just hope that the peer pressure of "He's weird" and "What's his PROBLEM?" doesn't take hold.

 
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