SO MUCH FOR CHILD PSYCHOLOGY

Listen, kids,” I said to a motley crew of youngsters huddled around a clump of daffodils I'd planted in the fall.  “I’ve called you here for a special reason.”

“What thpecial reason?” asked a little girl whose pigtails bounced in rhythm to her lisp.

The child couldn’t have given me a better cue for practicing my latest theories on child psychology if I had paid her.

“Oh, I’m just so worried about these pretty flowers.  I need some neighbor kids to keep them safe.”

“You don’t want nuffing to hurt your fwowers?" the pigtailed child asked, putting her little face so close to mine that I could smell her bubblegum.

“That’s right,” I said.  “If all you children protect my flowers, I know they’ll be safe.  Will everybody help?”

“Ah ha!  This child psychology stuff really works,” I thought, as each newly-recruited Flower Power Ranger took a solemn oath to guard my daffodils.

“It all comes down to understanding how kids think,” I boasted to my husband when he came home from his job.  “If you don’t want kids to pick your flowers, you enlist their help in guarding them.  Don’t know why I never thought of that before.”

“You never thought of that before, because it won’t work,” my spouse laughed, just as Little Miss Pigtails burst through our patio doors, bearing not one, but a whole fistful of daffodils, some still attached to their uprooted bulbs.

“I just wescued your fwowers from a giant bumblebee!” she cried. “I bwot them in to save them from his thting!”

So much for child psychology,” I said and put the rescued flowers in a vase.

“What thpecial reason?” asked a little girl whose pigtails bounced in rhythm to her lisp.

BUNNY PICKS GOOD (BAD?) TIME TO DIE

At first it seemed ironic that Bryan Midnight, our silky little Dutch bunny, should choose to die just one week before Easter. 

We found him huddled in the corner of his cage, fur unruffled—his nose still warm.  He could have been asleep.

But he was dead, and there was nothing to do but find a gentle way to tell our children that their little friend would never again nip bits of lettuce from their fingertips or bounce around after our other household pet pretending that he, too, was a dog.

“Maybe we should just open the cage door,” I said, “and let them think he hopped away.”

“No,” my husband replied, “It’s better for them to know for sure where he is than to always have to wonder.”

I lined an old shoebox with a satin pillowcase; my husband tucked the tiny creature in.

We gathered the children around, and I began tentatively, the way my own mother had so long ago when my puppy died.  “I hate to have to tell you this…”

Tears trickled down our oldest daughter’s cheeks.  Another child raised his face as if to speak, then bit his lip before a word or sob escaped.

The baby blew bubbles and patty-caked, while our 3-year-old eyed the contents of the box with intense curiosity.

Then our 5-year-old summed the situation up with simple eloquence:  “Bryan Midnight’s going to heaven,” she said.  “He’ll be there by Easter.”

Bryan Midnight's on his way to Heaven.

PICKY EATER'S DEFINITION OF A BALANCED MEAL, PLUS A DELICIOUS COFFEE CAKE RECIPE

"What's this?" My 6-year-old son says, eyeballing his supper stew with the scrutiny of someone who expects to find a weevil or a fly.

“Pickled canary feet and curried salamander tongues,” I answer.

“Why did you tell him that?” His visiting grandma draws me aside.

“Because, if I tell him what’s really in it, he’s not going to eat it.”

“What is in it?”

“Peas and carrots and onions.  But Michael made it clear back in his Gerber days that no one was ever going to accuse him of being a vegetarian.”

“I take it he’s a meat and potatoes kid.”

“Well, not exactly.  Unless the spuds are french-fried, Mikey usually includes potatoes in his ban on veggies.  And as for meat, he’s pretty selective—if it isn’t dripping in ketchup and mayonnaise and served on a toasted sesame seed bun, you might as well forget about getting it down that kid’s hatch.”

“Does he like anything besides hamburgers?

“Oh, sure!  Mike’s pretty keen on peanut butter sandwiches and fast foods like pepperoni pizza, or soft-shelled tacos.  But what he really loves are Twinkies and Zingers.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a problem eater on your hands.”

“Not always.  Every once in a while he comes to the table and picks out a morsel or two.”

“How often is every once in a while?”

“Just often enough to sustain life between his junk food forays.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d put my foot down on such mealtime shenanigans and make that boy eat some balanced meals.”

“Oh, I’ve already tired that, but with Michael’s active lifestyle, I’m afraid insisting on balanced meals hasn’t had much of a nutritional impact.”

“Active lifestyle?  You mean he’s always eating on the run?”

“No, just on his bicycle.  And that’s the main problem:  Mike’s idea of a balanced meal is anything he can hold in one hand while steering his bike with the other.”

Mikey's sweet smile reflects his eating habits.

*****

So, Mike is all grown up now, and his beautiful wife has been able to successfully introduce him to a few nutritious foods, including spinach and broccoli. 

But with today, April 7, being National Coffee Cake Day, I’m sure he’d like one of these:

COFFEE CAKE PUFF

Beat until stiff and set aside:

  

3 egg whites

Cream:

2 cups sugar

1 1/2 sticks softened butter
1 T pure vanilla

Sift together and add alternately with 1 1/4 cup whole milk, stirring just until blended:

3 cups flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt

Fold in egg whites.

Spread in 9 X 13 pan.

Top with mixture of 1 1/2 sticks softened butter, 3/4 cup flour, 1 1/2 cup brown sugar, and 2 tablespoons cinnamon, and 1 1/2 cups chopped pecans.  I mix this with my Kitchen-Aid before sprinkling it on.

Bake in preheated oven at 350 degrees 40-45 minutes until set. Serve warm.

Warm Coffee Cake with Streusel Topping. Yum!

What's your best solution for helping picky eaters make wise choices.  Please leave a comment. Share what has worked for you.