The Good Eater

Those are kale chips on his face.

Hudson is the good eater. That is the adjective assigned to him by other parents as in, "Oh that Hudson, he is such a good eater." And it makes me smile. Yes, I am proud that my little guy tries all foods, but mostly I am happy because --as all parents know-- a good eater is easier.

His favorite spot at 5:30 p.m. is on a stool next to the stove so he can, "Seeeeeeeee?" as I prepare dinner. He already mixes the scrambled eggs and muffins as needed. The only television show which he has seen as much as Handy Manny is my fav Top Chef, which he watches without complaint, on my lap.

In all honesty, I am probably a healthier eater since he came to be. Those months of gestational diabetes taught me a lot about how certain foods would react in my body. And since I did not want to raise a kid who only ate chicken nuggets and french fries, I have intentionally exposed him to every different taste and texture I can think of. There are only a handful of foods that he does not like: broccoli and sauerkraut whose pungent odor keeps him from tasting so we really don't know.

But he is a kid. Somehow, and surely not from me, he asked one day for, "Candy?" He does love his mints. There is a pack in the driver's side seat pocket so I can lure him into the car. Last Monday he asked specifically for chocolate milk. He told Josh earlier today he did not want to go trick-or-treating tonight. Josh explained the candy factor, and now he is rearing to go.

This week, while picking off the tomatoes on a white cheese margarita pizza, he told me, "I don't like it, Mama." I laughed out loud because ironically I don't like tomatoes either, but also because he sounded so much like a little boy it almost took my breath away.

Helping me make butternut squash soup by digging out the seeds.