Eileen is a picky eater. This is not a statement to be taken lightly and this is not something to put in the "every mother states" category.
I am a picky eater.
When I was about 7, we were eating Thanksgiving dinner at my Aunt Susie's house with 30 of our closest relatives. This precious angel pulled the hostess aside and very politely asked for a PB&J. The very polite hostess laughed, took me into the kitchen where all the cooks were preparing to serve, took out the Sunbream, Jif, Smucker's, and set to work. After she was done, the treasured PB&J was presented to me on the dinner china and I asked her to remove the crusts. Only then was the PB&J deemed acceptable for my palate.
As I was saying, Eileen is a picky eater.
If it is not a carbohydrate, she is not interested. If it is not a fried piece of meat, she is not interested. No carrots. No peas. Nothing healthy. She does drink milk, so we have that going for us. She does eat yogurt and is quite a fan of chocolate chip cookies.
Today, we had to get creative. Carrots were cooked, pureed with milk and a smidge of brown sugar. This was poured into a cup and served with a straw. She gulped down the carrot smoothie and asked for more.
Baby peas were then cooked. Pureed with milk and a smidge of salt, these presented in the same cup with the same straw. Two sips into the pea smoothie- it was everywhere. She was not a fan.
New cup. New straw. New mission. Peaches and heavy whipping cream with a splash of sugar. A dance with the food processor to create a peaches and cream smoothie. Sucked it down in 10 seconds flat.
Cried from the head freeze.
She is still my daughter, still a picky eater, but we are winning the war. I still cut the crusts off my sandwiches.