I've mentioned that at times, Princess Becca (PB) can challenge my preconceived notions of what constitutes an acceptable food choice. Tonight, she did it again--with a little help from her father this time...
We were busy going through the motions of our snacktime conversations:
"I'm HOOONNGRY," PB whines.
"What do you want, baby?" I ask her. I don't expect a usable answer yet.
"Something yummy."
"OK. Like what? Do you want turkey? Or some ham?"
I don't get a verbal response, just a glare.
This is where daddy chimes in. He's not always home for these exchanges, and so the game of "feed Becca" still has some alure to him. (When he's home with the kids, they get two food choices. Take one or don't eat.)
"I used to eat ketchup on my soy-nut butter sandwiches," he tells our daughter.
I gasp and utter an "Oh gross!" before I can stop myself. I immediately know two things:
1) There was never any soy-nut butter in my husband's childhood.
2) He is absolutely sincere that he put ketchup on his ~peanut~ butter sandwiches.
Despite the stomach-churning idea of those foods entering my mouth together, I feel guilty for my reaction. We encourage PB to think outside the norm as she chooses foods that work for her, within her dietary constraints.
Becca gauges my level of disgust, and sides with Daddy (thank goodness for reverse psychology). "Yeah! I want that." she says.
I put a muzzle on my sensibility and give my husband a look. He knows that I will never, ever, be the one to make her a soy-nut butter and ketchup sandwich. They head to the kitchen together for a little father/daughter bonding over their favorite red condiment. I find somewhere else to be until the sandwich is gone. And yes, she really did like it. Daddy loves being right.
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