little gourmets (or is it gourmands?)

Today, Scott is out of town on business, and as it happened, I had scheduled us all to go get our H1N1 shots (yes, I know, but better late than never). So then I have to agonize: better to prepare Miles for it ahead of time and endure the whining, or to spring it on him last minute ("oh, on the way to the grocery store, let's stop in this office and see if the doctor has something for us!") Anyway, I chose the former, and was amazed that, after promises of a post-shot treat, specified by him to be strawberry ice cream in a cone, I didn't hear any complaints. He even sounded excited when he told the plumber we were going to the doctor. Well, until the shot itself, but those tears blew over pretty quickly. I hope my kids grow out of the squirming before they grow too strong for me to pin their arms down, though.

As often happens when there's no second adult to feed, I opted for one of my simple, not-really-cooking dinner solutions. Tonight it was wheat pasta for the kids, with mussels in a tomato garlic white wine sauce for me (sounds fancy but in reality was a frozen kit from Aldi). I happen to love mussels. In the interest of enticing my picky and contrary children to try something new, I said I didn't want to share my mussels, and they were all for me, but that Miles and Eleanor could each try ONE, I supposed.

Big mistake. Eleanor masticated hers for a while, then spit it out. Pre-chewed food always looks pretty horrendous, but a mussel starts out looking horrendous in the first place. Let's just say it didn't inspire me to finish it off, regardless of my love of the little creatures. Miles, on the other hand, after opening the shell and slurping one, decided he loved them. He ate about twelve (really, I think the shells were the fun part), and then insisted on me sharing the remaining "mussel juice" with him. This was supposed to be my special treat - low-calorie protein that feels like a decadence. And here a three-year-old consumed the lion's share. This is a child who won't eat steak, or fried chicken, or Cheerios, or even peanut butter.

I had to forgive him, though, when - as I was washing dishes - he says to me, "Mommy, when I grow up I want to be JUST like you." I said, "Oh, thank you honey!" He continues, "Yeah, because you're so much like the Lord."

OK, so I know that's merely a direct quote from Kids' Praise Three (aka Psalty 3), which he received for Christmas from my mom, and he has no idea what that really means, but...it was awfully sweet to hear. Someday I pray he'll be able to say it and mean it (and that I could deserve it).