I know that many children are finicky with their food.
I’m aware that some people are fussy and things have to be ‘just so’ on the plate.
I accept that everyone has likes and dislikes when it comes to their eating habits.
But there are times when faddiness gets right up my nose and I feel like grinding whatever has been refused up hers!
We were traveling a lot when Maggie was a puppy, and discovered that giving her a scrambled egg in the morning stopped the possibility of travel sickness, plus it did wonders for her coat. We checked with the vet and he said it was perfectly OK unless it started to affect her ‘toilet’.
Once we were settled, we continued to give her breakfast, but eventually she didn’t want it, so we stopped. However, the ‘ding’ of the microwave always meant FOOD to her, and as I use mine a lot, the dog was a permanent fixture in the kitchen.
Breakfast. The most important meal of the day.
You know the saying
A little aside here:
One of my most successful ‘diets’ (before dog) was based on this, though probably not exactly the way it was intended to be followed.
Our breakfast was the full celestial fix (grapefruit, cereal, and a plateful of bacon, egg, sausage, fried bread, tomato, mushrooms, black pudding, beans and toast washed down with plenty of tea), a sandwich for lunch, and soup for our evening meal.
We were staying in B&B and decided to always have whatever was going for breakfast as it would set us up for the day. We lost over half a stone in a fortnight.
Today, our breakfast is practically always cereal. Bran flakes to be exact, dried fruit topping and cinnamon optional. Now, if I put a handful in the dog bowl, complete with milk, she won’t touch it. BUT, she will sit and drool with her head attached to my knee until I give in and give her a bit.
I do NOT let her lick the bowl, or any other crockery we use for that matter. She has her own, but this I guess is classed as ‘finger food’ . Much better.
She has perfected the pathetic ‘I’m starving’, ‘Please Mummy’, and ‘You know you intend to give me some, so why wait?’ looks and guilt (read weakness) kicks in like a sledgehammer before I’ve had my third spoonful.
The same goes for biscuits. Gingernuts actually.
She will turn her nose up at a whole one to herself.
Her ladyship’s has got to be dunked in tea.
And MY tea isn’t good enough. It has to be Hubby’s.