Imperfect fruit

For reasons beyond my understanding the 4 year old decided to follow her brother’s picky attitude when it comes to imperfect looking fruit or vegetables.

And these are kids that harvest food from soil and trees in their own backyard. Kids whose mother, and grandmother, are avid gardeners. Kids who understand about factory-produced fruit (to degrees) or those that grow wild in the forest (like blueberries, for example).

But the fuss, the noise, the complaints about the little brown spots taste different…it’s unreal.

And I have reached my limit.

It’s not like I give her a half-rotten banana. I even go so far to cut out the soft brown spot on an apple that is clearly bruised, since I too don’t like that part of the fruit. I go to the trouble of drizzling lemon juice on a cut piece of fruit to prevent it from browning too quickly, and wash meticulously each and every washable eatable item I can, not just to remove the dirt and grit that naturally clings to ‘real’ or ‘whole’ food, but also to reduce the possible chemicals the item may have been dowsed with.

(Yes, I choose organic occasionally, but I’m not always in a position of picking only organic produce…best produce to eat is home-grown, we all know that, but this is Canada in January. I think most of us are in a similar situation.)

Having said all that, I bought some pears today. They had a few spots on them, but that was part of the skin, not a bruise. TRUST ME, I checked. I spent extra time picking out only the best looking pears for my precious offspring…(drip drip drip the sarcasm here).

Fast forward to lunch. We came home with a little surprise for her to have while watching some dvd she chose at the library. A chocolate croissant from our favorite organic, hand-crafted bakery down the street. But first, she had to eat her lunch. And she picked some pear to go with her sandwich…

Long story short, there was a lot of noise about the brown spots on the pear, and a temper tantrum reminiscent of the toddler years. The croissant remained on the counter instead of on her pink plate and she was not pleased.

[An hour later she managed to eat two of the four slices and announced that she no longer has a craving for croissant after all…and that she won’t be eating either the slices of pear or the croissant. But knowing that girl of mine, I am sure there will be many versions, explanations and negotiations about this particular subject before the day has ended.]



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