Damsel in dis Dress wrote:
> On Sat, 27 Dec 2008 18:55:32 -0500, Bob Muncie >
> wrote:
>
>> ladysailor wrote:
>>> On Dec 28, 1:03 am, Sheldon > wrote:
>>>
>>>> When I grew up there were no
>>>> choices, we all ate what was placed in front of us and we were
>>>> required to clean our plates, we couldn't pick and choose, everything
>>>> was required to be eaten and without complaint... no one was forced to
>>>> eat and no negative comments were tolerated.. you could go to your
>>>> room without but the same dish was served the next day, ice cold from
>>>> the fridge, and the following days as well, didn't take long to
>>>> acquire a broad palate... only exceptions were for illness.
>>> I don't remember you growing up but it appears we had the same
>>> parents.
>>>
>>> Barb
>> I guess my folks were draconian. If you didn't empty your plate, you sat
>> there until bed time, and you still had to eat it the next day. It's not
>> easy to talk a dog into eating stuff like steamed cauliflower :-{
>
> Mom and Dad made us sit at the table until the food was gone, too, but
> that didn't mean we ate it. We had an old, ceramic-on-metal table
> with hollow legs. When our parents left the kitchen to watch TV while
> we kids sat staring at the hated parsnips, etc., we would stuff the
> food down the holes at the tops of the legs. Eventually, the maggots
> ratted us out.
>
> We also had a dog who really loved Mom and Dad's rule, and their
> eventual absence from the kitchen. The only part of beef stew I liked
> when I was young was the potatoes. I gave Taffy my plate, and she
> happily gobbled up the beef and the gravy. Unfortunately for me,
> Taffy didn't like carrots. Guess who had to eat those same carrots
> when Mom found the plate on the floor?
>
> On one other occasion, I stupidly announced that I'd rather eat dog
> food than what was being served. Need I say more?
>
> I'm still a picky eater by RFC standards, but I've come a long way.
>
> Carol

That's just too funny about the carrots (I LOL'd).

To stay on topic, the same step-dad that enforced that as a table rule
would also stab me on the back of the hand if I used the wrong utensil
in the wrong hand i.e. fork in the left hand? That's a stabbin! And what
made that worse is that I started life as a lefty.

It's funny some of the memories dredged up by RFC.

Anyway, the rule when my sons were growing up was "At least try one
bite". If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it. And wouldn't you
know, they inherited their mother's taste buds. All three of them would
probably be happy with about ten different meals for each breakfast,
lunch, and dinner. If I even want to make something as "out there" as a
Reuben sandwich, I have to do it on weekends, and likely eat alone. Lord
help me if I make the house smell like sauerkraut and short ribs. I'd
hear about it for the next 24 hours.