Wednesday, May 18, 2011
One day my daughter checked a book out of the library called Mud Soup by Judith Head. The book is about two kids sharing their lunch where one is eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and the other mud soup. The story covers “International Day” at school where everyone brings a dish from their culture to share. Mud soup is on the potluck menu. By the end of the book, the boy with the peanut butter sandwich gets up the courage to taste the mud soup. To his surprise, he finds that it is not made with mud after all. No, mud soup is really black bean soup that looks like mud. And guess what? He likes it!
My daughter loved reading this book because she thought it was so funny to talk about actually eating mud soup. I mean, that’s what she makes in the sand at the beach, right? Who doesn’t love to pretend to eat mud soup? At the end of the book, there was a recipe for Mud Soup.
“Can we make it?” my daughter asked with bright eyes.
“Sure,” I said.
I soaked the beans overnight and the next day prepared Mud Soup with our dinner.
“Yuck, what is that?” my son and daughter cried in unison.
“Mud Soup!” I said. “Just like in the book.”
“Smells like beans,” my son said, unimpressed.
“Oh Mommy, thank you for making Mud Soup!” my daughter said, giving me a hug.
They both tasted the soup. Sure enough, my son thought it was the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted. Instead he ate up the bowl of black beans that I had extracted from the soup and put in a separate bowl in anticipation of exactly his reaction. My daughter, on the other hand, loved the soup. She even asked for more and ate the beans floating in the bottom of the cup.
Does my daughter now like black bean soup? All I know is that she wanted to eat what the girl in the book ate and exclaim, “Delicioso!” after every bite. That desire pushed her to taste a new food, and for that, I am happy. Maybe she will eat black bean soup the next time I make, it. Or maybe she won’t eat it again for 6 months or even a couple of years. Either way, she tasted it, liked it and so I know she will come back to it eventually.
Mud Soup (from Mud Soup by Judith Head)
2 cups black beans
3 tbps of olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 bay leaf
Salt to taste
Wash the beans. Put them in a pot with 6 cups of water. Soak them for 4-8 hours. Drain them and pu them back into the pot. Add 6 cups of water. Add the oil, the onion, and the bay leaf. Simmer for 1-2 hours or until the beans are tender. Add more water if the water boils out. Add salt and stir.
Posted by Rosalie Ezekiel at 8:10 PM
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Let’s take my daughter’s blanket, for example. When our first child was born, a good friend gave her a soft, satin-edged, pink blanket. Embroidered all around the satin edges were our daughter’s name, birth date, birth weight and length, etc. It was a beautiful blanket and a thoughtful gift so we gave it to our baby girl to enjoy.
Our daughter took to the blanket so much that soon she not only slept with it every night but had a difficult time falling asleep without it, even for a short nap. She tried to say “blankie” but it came out “bobby” and so began the story of Robert B. Blanket, as my husband and I affectionately referred to it. Everything seemed to be smooth-sailing with our daughter and her blanket until one night she threw up on her faithful friend. We put Bobby in the washing machine for a good cleaning while we changed our daughter’s pajamas and attempted to put her back to sleep. It turned out to be the longest wash, rinse, spin and then dry cycle of our life. Our daughter cried her eyes out until clean, warm from the dryer, Bobby was returned to her.
This event occurred every time Bobby needed to be washed. I tried to strategically plan the blanket’s wash time when our daughter was pre-occupied with toys or a play date. But sure enough something would happen, a skinned knee, or a bump on the head where she would all of a sudden go looking for Bobby.
“Bobby is getting a wash,” I would say. That was all she needed to throw herself into a terrible tantrum that didn’t end until Bobby was returned to her.
When our son was born two years later, I decided that although I may not be able to fix the mistakes I had made with our first child, at least I could learn from them and not make them again. Our son didn’t get a fancy embroidered, one of a kind blanket to sleep with. Instead I went to Target and purchased not one but two identical, inexpensive satin-edged green blankets. “One for my son and one for the wash,” I thought, satisfied that I had solved my biggest problem.
For the first 18 months my plan worked beautifully. Spilled milk on blankie? Who cares. Dragged blankie through the mud? No problem. Each time I carefully swapped out the dirty blanket with an identical clean one and our unsuspecting son happily went to bed. I should have known, however, that all good tricks eventually come to an end. One day our son spotted his green blanket edge sticking out of the laundry basket in the hallway awaiting the trip down to the laundry room. He pulled the blanket out of the basket and held it up for a moment. Then he went to his bedroom and retrieved the second blanket from his bed. He showed them both to me and happily said, “two blankies!”
“No reason to panic,” I thought. When he started playing with his toys again I took the dirty blanket and threw it in the washing machine. That night at bedtime our son held up his one blanket and cried “two blankies” to me over and over again.
I stood back in amazement. “No way,” I thought to myself as I made the trip downstairs to the laundry room and retrieved the back-up blanket from the dryer. I handed the second blanket to our son and he happily cuddled up with, not one, but two satin-edged green blankets.
That night I learned a lesson about parenting. If I lie or trick my kids, they will eventually beat me at my own game.
When it comes to nutrition, trickery will eventually fail you just as my secret blanket trick did. You may not be able to predict the outcome, but rest assured, it won’t end well. Instead of using trickery or bribes, I tell them the truth. Sure I may embellish with an imaginative story, but at the end of the day, I haven’t actually told them something that flat out isn’t true.
Talking to kids about nutrition is just as important as getting them to eat it. Tell them why we are eating nutritious food rather than attempting to sneak it by when they aren’t looking. Kids want to know how the world works. Tell them!
“Here are some apple slices, it will give you energy.”
“Have some carrots, they make your eyes shiny.”
“Finish your milk, it is good for your bones.”
“Try this, it tastes just like sweet potato.”
Sure maybe some of my statements are old wives tales or circle around the truth, but at least it puts a positive image in their heads while they are eating nutritious food. And perhaps the explanation doesn’t always convince your child to take a bite. However, giving kids reasons (beyond bribery) to reach for healthy food will only inspire more healthy choices down the road.
“Mom, look how long my arm is,” exclaims my son after eating a banana, “did it grow yet?”
Some things in life you just can’t predict. When in doubt, tell the truth in an imaginative way and hope for the best. My son curled up in his bed, hugging two identical blankets, is my nightly reminder that my kids will outsmart me every time.
Posted by Rosalie Ezekiel at 1:01 PM