Boys & Vegetables

The Boy, age 10, has been on an anti-vegetaable kick this year, along with all his friends.

Oh he'll eat them, but usually after many threats and lengthly negotiations.

"You have to eat at least four bites."

"Does this count as a bite?"

"No. The guinea pig would not consider that a bite."

"It fits on my fork . . . "

"One tine doesn't count."

"I can't believe you want me to be rude and take a giant bite. That's so wrong."

"There is a bite sized somewhere between what you have on your fork and a giant, mutant bite."

* deep sigh *

"You do realize that you could have finished eating your vegetables in the time you've wasted talking about them and could already be back on the Xbox 360 playing Halo Wars."

* scarfs up vegetables and runs *

Suddenly The Boy -- the same Boy from the preceeding conversation -- only wants to eat quiche, preferably with spinach, tomatoes, shallots, celery, red and green bell peppers and shredded carrot.

Last night I figured out why . . . 

I buy free-range eggs from a farm that is on the way to school.

Actual free-range eggs, from chickens who are usually standing in the driveway when you pull up.

A couple of weeks ago we had an incident involving an egg that should have stayed under its Mama.

The Boy is suddenly all about quiche because he is hoping for another such egg . . . 

And so I chop and slice the vegetables, while he does the eggs.

He is disappointed that he hasn't discovered another embryo, but is always pleased when he finds a double yolk, and spends entirely too much time worrying about chicken twins.

I'm still not sure if that counts as a positive method of encouraging vegetable consumption . . .