So I thought a I had a brilliant idea. Make cute little bear toast on Saturday morning to surprise my kids! I mean they love peanut butter, toast, bananas and blueberries…this will be a home run right?
Our five-year-old hated it. Was the bear too scary? No. Does she still like blueberries? Yes. Then what’s the problem? Oh… the peanut butter. Wait… the peanut butter?
And so it continues. Then never-ending saga of how, and with what, to nourish our kids. One day it’s perfectly acceptable to cut their sandwiches into triangles, and the next day it’s tantrums until you re-make the exact same sandwich cut into rectangles. The jelly can’t have seeds, the pasta sauce can’t have specks of green spices, and the orange juice cannot under any circumstances contain “little string things.” (A.k.a. the pulp.)
Welcome to parenthood, and what could be our greatest challenge yet, feeding the little tyrants… I mean our beautiful children.
Upon further analysis of my cute little breakfast bear toast, I could have just made cinnamon toast or used Nutella. I didn’t even think that peanut butter wasn’t an appropriate morning food. But you never know what will set the kiddos off… I honestly thought it would be the crust that was the issue.
During the tantrum of the century over the cutest little breakfast toast ever, I actually muttered to my husband, “Who would have thought that childbirth would be easier than getting them to eat?!”