The fussy eater and a Coco Pops conundrum

My son’s particular stubbornness around his diet goes back to when he was a toddler. Then, still full of optimism and naivety around parenting, I had determined that I would prepare all of his meals from scratch using only fresh ingredients.

I used to make him a Bolognese dish containing pureed vegetables. One day, as I was shovelling the sauce into his gob, I noticed that it was coming out again, just as quickly.

He was not yet speaking in sentences at the time, but he managed to master two words to get his point across.

‘Just mince… just mince.’

Most parents will remember with glowing pride the first words that their children uttered. My earliest memory of my son speaking is him saying ‘just mince’ as mushed carrot dribbled down his chin.

And that has been the way of it ever since. He likes his food to be plain, bereft of flavour. And he likes routine, with his antenna always on the alert to identify something which is alien, an unfamiliar aroma or taste.

Lunch is a good example. He eschews school dinners, so I prepare a packed lunch every morning during term time. He doesn’t much care for sandwiches so instead rice cakes (dry and flavourless) and bread sticks (dry and flavourless) go into the little blue lunchbox.

He takes a red apple as well. It has to be Royal Gala. The insertion of a Braeburn, a Jazz or a McIntosh will lead to a serious dispute.

I stick to this pattern every day. I have been doing so for years. I suspect I’ll be doing it the same for many more years to come.

Dinner can be even more tricky. My boy rarely eats the same things as my wife and I, so a separate meal has to be prepared. I am usually treading a fine line to find the small number of foods that are in his favour at the moment.

And it is far from straightforward. For years he was prepared to eat potato waffles. It was one of the bankers when all else failed.

And then one evening some months back I presented him with waffles. He sniffed the plate and declared: ‘I don’t like potato waffles.’

‘What are you talking about? You love waffles!’

‘They smell different, they are not the same.’

And just like that, potato waffles were banished from his diet. The actual substance of his offence against waffles could not be bottomed out, but once he had set his mind against them, that was the end of the matter.

Of course, I try to get him to eat healthy foods and a varied diet, but it can be a desperate struggle. At the moment he is going through a phase where the only thing he wants to eat for dinner is pasta with some passata mixed through.

The passata has to be plain and the pasta has to be the twirly fusilli shape. If I serve the dish with penne or any other shape, then he refuses to look at it and no amount of reasoning that it tastes exactly the same will make the slightest difference.

At the end of the day I am just relieved that it is pasta that is his preferred food currently, rather than something less healthy.

I am aware that these admissions perhaps highlight some failing in my parenting skills. I have spoken to other mums and dads who tell me their kids eat everything in sight, that they love salad and vegetables.

Other well-meaning people have told me over and over that I should just serve him what I am having, and he will eat it when he is hungry.

But here’s the rub; he simply won’t. He will not eat food which he doesn’t want to, and I have no particular desire to enter into an ugly battle of wills with my son, to try to break him like you would a wild horse.

I suppose my hope is that he will grow out of it. As his taste buds develop, I am waiting for the moment when he embraces the rich variety of culinary delights in the world.

We are not there yet. At breakfast he likes to have Coco Pops with a strawberry and banana smoothie. Sometimes he will take toast, sausages or pancakes, but Coco Pops are the staple cereal.

So, when I do the weekly shop, I am accustomed to picking up a bright yellow box of the chocolate flavoured toasted rice.

But times are tough. The price of food (and everything else) continues to rise and I am trying to find economies where I can.

Coco Pops are expensive, more than £3 for a medium-sized box. Several months ago, I was in the cereal aisle of my local store, fretting over the cost of my shopping basket.

I noticed the store’s own brand, called Choco Rice Pops, was just £1. More than three times cheaper for the same size of box.

I stood there and fretted some more. There was a phrase which I mumbled over and over.

‘Will he notice? Will he notice?’

I came up with a plan. I bought the cheaper brand and brought it home. There, I took the cereal from the packaging and placed it in the Coco Pops box.

I’ve been doing that ever since. The yellow box is becoming more and more tattered, but my son has not noticed the difference.

Now, he is off school for Easter. I am unpacking the shopping in the kitchen in the morning while my son is waiting for breakfast. We are chatting amiably, and I am not fully focused.

Then he says…

‘Daddy, what are you doing?’

I stand frozen. Realising that he has caught me putting the Choco Rice Pops into the Coco Pops box.

‘Uh, I’m just sorting out your cereal son.’

‘You mean they are not Coco Pops?’

Desperately extemporising, I attempt to offer an explanation.

‘Well no, but they are exactly the same. It’s the same product inside, it’s just the box that is different.’

He peers at me suspiciously as I prepare his bowl of cereal and smoothie.

‘Look, the milk is turning chocolately!’ I splutter uselessly. I could tell him that he has happily been eating the cheaper brand for months, but I am unwilling to reveal the scale of my deception.

He sniffs the bowl. Then he picks up one grain of rice between his fingers and examines it carefully. He puts it in his mouth and chews slowly. Then, mercifully, he lifts the spoon and begins to happily eat his breakfast.

I realise that I have been holding my breath. I exhale and go back to sorting the shopping. I am already worrying about what I will make for his lunch.