I've thought for a while now that we may have a major problem on our hands with food sensitivity in this household. Never a phenomenal eater, the list of foods little C will eat has gradually become more and more restricted. We've tried the if-you-don't-eat-what-we're-having-you-don't-eat-at-all thing, we've tried bribery, we've tried positive reinforcement--you name it. All failures. Method and consistency have worked in pretty much every area save this one.
Mainly, his issue seems to lie with meat. Specifically, any meat other than chicken nuggets. Nuggets, mind you. Not tenders. Not fillets. Nuggets.
There is some flexibility with other foods--carbs, predictably, are generally winners (with the exception of pasta, which he seems to have a particular horrific aversion to). Red sauces are blacklisted, but ketchup, somehow, is the nectar of the gods.
Meat, though, is completely locked down. As in, this-is-the-mountain-I-am-willing-to-die-on locked down.
I was in the running for parent of the year last week when I decided it was taste-the-meat-or-go-to-bed-early night. He *genuinely* gagged on the minuscule piece of ground meat that made it onto his tongue, though, so we settled for swallowing a spoonful of sauce that accompanied said meat.
We'd pretty much given up on this food group, honestly. He'll put it on his tongue because he knows the routine by now, but no matter how savory the selection, he always either A) gags, or B) spits it out with a moue of distaste and mentally adds it to his list-of-things-I-will-panic-at-the-sight-of-later.
Tonight, though, I all but gave myself whiplash walking through the living room, as this extremely picky kid strolls past me with a half-eaten stick of beef-jerky in his hand. And breath that smelled like teriyaki, y'all.
Me, incredulous: "[Little C], where did you get that?"
Little C, calmly: "[Big C]."
SIBLINGS FOR PRESIDENT, FOLKS.