Food is a battleground.
If it is healthy, has a vegetable in it, is mildly spicy, in any way exotic or interesting, then it is very likely to be rejected, often without even being tried.
Eddie is the worst culprit, and will often say that he 'hates' something - even it that something was his favourite last Tuesday.
He knows that I get fed up with a simple, 'I don't like it', and so he tried a new one tonight:
"Mummy, I can't eat this. My lips are tired."
I must remember that. And remember to use it as I reach for a third glass of wine.
Currently reading: A Room Swept White by Sophie Hannah