(Blogger wouldn't let me post this last night because it was being a dick. So, here.)
Methinks Miss O is going through "the change." Yesterday at dinner, we made some Mac & Cheese for Mr. Z and we decided that Miss O had to at least take a bite of it. See, as a toddler, Miss O ate the shit out of Mac & Cheese, but, as she is wont to do, one day she decided that she despised cheese and would no longer let it pass her contrarian lips. For the last few months, we've finally been able to chip away at her cheesy-eschewment (a sprinkle of cheddar in her eggs here, a slice of pizza there) but there were no major breakthroughs.
Cut to yesterday. We announced, "Now Miss O, you don't have to eat a whole bowl, but you do have to at least try it." She refused, crossed her arms in front of her chest and stated in her scrunched-up-face-Mae-West-voice, "I'm NOT going to EAT it!" But we placed it in front of her and walked away. Two minutes later, it was making its way toward her previously cheeseless colon. Fucking amazing. Of course, she said she didn't want any more, but shit, boogers can't be cheesers.
So tonight, we made some bowtie pasta for the boy and, again, informed Miss O that she needed to at least take a bite. Pasta has suffered the same fate as cheese in the world of the shunned foods of Miss O. Basically, all the shit that's easy to make and beloved by all children everywhere... except her. Once again, we placed a few bowties in a tiny bowl, added a little butter, and placed it in front of her.
This time, instead of just eating it and calling it quits, she got up from the table, approached me with the empty bowl and said, "Mmmm... pasta is yummy! I want some more!"
No you dinh-unh!
What the shit -- I got her some more. She did the same thing. "More pasta, please!" She finished that bowl, too. I swear, if she weren't so damn cute, and if she were, say, a dude in her twenties, I would've fucking punched her really hard in the arm. But instead, I got her some more pasta.
She does still draw the cheese line, though. Mr. Z suggested that she try some string cheese. Miss O seemed game, so I got one of the tasteless, rubbery white tube-sticks from the fridge and handed it to her. She peeled off a thin string, stuck it in her mouth and then spit it out a nanosecond later, exclaiming, "BLECCH, FLEH, GRRRM, BLICK, PLOOBLE!!!"
But I'm certainly not complaining. I will accept the shunning of the string cheese. One must choose his or her battles wisely with the cunning Miss O. Besides, my next battle plan is already being drawn up.
The dreaded... GRILLED CHEESE!