Fussy eaters and the 'other' baby food

You’d never guess it from this photo, but Miss Five is a fussy eater. That’s pureed pumpkins she’s wearing. For a long time, the only sure hit. Now it’s off the menu, too. I’d love to know how you encourage your kids to try new foods. In return, read on to find out what not to do.

Birthday dinners are supposed to be fancy, right?

Does spag bol count?

It does if you’re turning five. Apparently.

We were certainly at a fancy restaurant. Having upgraded from Miss Four that morning, Miss Five had the pick of the menu.

"Spaghetti," she squealed with delight.

I mustered almost the same excitement when I saw baby octopus. Even better it was on a set menu. 3 courses. Whose birthday was this, anyhow?

I ordered and thought no more about it until it arrived.

"The baby octopus," the waiter declared as he placed it in front of me.

Miss Five’s mouth gaped. Her eyes widened. Her forehead rose.

"Baby octopus?" she gasped.

"Ummm, yeeees.”

“Is that BABY octopus?”

This was starting to get awkward.

“Ahhhh,” I stalled. Nope, no way out now. “Yes.”

“A BABY octopus,” she accused me. “BABY!”

I was beginning to see a pattern.

In five years, I’d never seen that expression which was now clouding her face. I think it may have been horror.

There was only thing to do.

“Would you like to try some?”

Unsurprisingly, the answer was ‘no’.

Curse that waiter and his use of the word ‘baby’.

Miss Five has never been the most adventurous eater.

I’ve seen pictures of other kids gnawing on lamb shanks, even before their teeth came through.

Not my little girl.

When we first moved to solids, it was mashed pumpkin and nothing else.

Miss Five’s mum spent hours making mush out of all sorts of exotic mixes of fruits, vegetables and meats. It was never eaten.
For years, the only protein Miss Five would touch was smoked salmon and bacon.

Not ham. Forget white fish. Not even salmon fillets. It had to be smoked.

Quick, somebody hide the caviar and truffle oil.

We tried making food fun. We read every book. We put a range of food on her plate.

But even now, she refuses to eat food other kids see as treats.

Like hot chips. Or sausages.

It seems strange, but we celebrated the day she ate her first chicken nugget.

Pumpkin is definitively off the menu these days. Perhaps she overdosed in her younger years.

With Miss Five’s back-to-basics diet, I shouldn’t have been surprised baby octopus was confronting.

I wonder if she’d still occasionally pick at the lamb we sometimes offer up if she realised it was baby sheep.

Perhaps we need another name for baby octopus.

Anything to stop me getting told I should say sorry to its mummy.

I don’t know where she gets it from. I’m from the school of thought that you can’t knock it until you’ve tried it.

I’ve eaten jellyfish head in China and fruit bat in Vanuatu. Worst of all I drank some hideous cocktail containing bacon in Canada.

I cannot vouch for any of those. But at least I’ve tried it.

I’d like one day for Miss Five to be that adventurous.

But for now I’ll just be happy if she remains unscarred by the baby octopus ordeal.

She smiled when her ice cream came with a birthday sparkler. A good sign.

But proof we’d dodged a bullet came a week later.

Miss Five was pretending to make and serve me breakfast.

“Coffee,” she announced. “Orange juice. Pancakes. Bacon and eggs. Yoghurt. Cereal.”

“Oh,” she added. “And baby octopus.”

I think she’ll be ok

Follow Michael on Twitter @MichaelCoombes