My husband has planted blueberry bushes in our garden, and this year they’re bearing so much we’re actually getting to eat some! We usually lose all the berries to blueberry thieves. Well, ONE blueberry thief in particular. A little deer/raccoon/squirrel/bird who is also a grandson. lol!

When this boy was a baby, but old enough to eat solid foods, I secretly thought his mother was spoiling him. She would cut up about fifteen different foods and put them on the tray in front of him, and let him pick whatever he wanted. I was raised with “Make ’em eat what you give ’em or go hungry.” I could never quite hold to that, but I always felt guilty when I didn’t.

The result was that I was a picky eater and all my kids went through phases when they would only eat a few foods (the few they would eat changed–usually unpredictably–usually just as they sat down to a meal of what had been, up to that moment, their favorite foods). This grandson, on the other hand, would rather have fruit than cookies, raw vegetables than potato chips. He’s experimenting with being a vegetarian at the moment, which is easy for him, since he loves so many healthy foods already.

Maybe I need to have another child, so I can feed this one properly.

Maybe not.

As my doctor told me when I went off BCP after I reached A Certain Age and asked for assurance that I wouldn’t get pregnant, “If you do, put a candle in the window, ’cause the last time anything like that happend, three wise men came from the East.”

Oh, and I’m having blueberry pancakes for breakfast. 🙂


writing prompt: What was mealtime like for you when you were a child? Did you give your family or yourself the same kind of mealtime when you were master/mistress of your own table? How about your characters?