Carrots

Andres ate a carrot today.

This is a pretty big deal around here, as he has a long and storied history of refusing veggies of any kind. When he was 3, he made a habit of turning away carrots, peas, avocados, peppers, anything while insisting that he would begin eating them as soon as he turned 4. But when June 23, 2011 eventually came, things did not change much. That week he grudgingly ate a carrot at sloth-speed, taking about 3 hours to consume a single one. Every bite seemed more painful than the last.

So for the past 5 months we have not pushed it much. On a couple of occasions, I've tried to slip carrots into conversation to see if I could trick him into eating one. Really heady stuff like "This is a great salad. You know my favorite part? The carrots. They are great." Or Andres will be helping me cook, and he'll be cutting carrots. And I'll casually ask him whether he wants a carrot to snack on. And he casually responds "No, I just don't like carrots."

The other day we were discussing vegetables again. He said, "Mama and daddy, maybe when I'm 6 I'll eat vegetables. Or maybe when I'm 10." He seemed very thoughtful about this; like he was really considering whether he should try them in a year and a half, or whether he should just hold out until his age reaches double digits.

But tonight everything changed. We were sitting on the couch when he turned to me and said "Daddy maybe I want a carrot." I was flabbergasted.

I was, really--I cannot remember what we were talking about, or how this topic came up, or whether I said something vaguely referencing vegetables, or whether this was all his doing. The shock of this pronouncement seems to have blown all context and memory of it out of my mind.

I looked at him, and said "Really? You want a carrot?" I expected that this was all just a giant misunderstanding.

But he was serious. And a wry grin spread over his face too. So I told him to go see Natalia, who was in the kitchen. And sure enough, when he got in there, his story remained the same. Natalia and I looked at each other. Neither of us really knew what to do.

Thank goodness we actually had carrots in the refrigerator. With help from Natalia, Andres peeled and washed them, and then ate part of one, and then another. All in less than 15 minutes.

Now over the past few months, one of the pro-carrot arguments I have been using (err...one that I made up) is that eating carrots makes one jump higher. Andres has coveted this ability, though he has been reluctant to actually consume the food that could give him this power. So tonight, with every bite, he would also take a jump. Natalia and I remarked at how high he was jumping--and with every bite, a higher jumping than before! He was quite happy with these results, as evidenced by the very wide smile that he wore.

And just like that, he seemed to overcome his distaste for vegetables. Well, one kind at least.

This was a big moment. And as I watched him eat and jump, I couldn't help but think that he is not exactly a little guy anymore. He talks all the time. He's in preschool, and he has friends with whom he shares special connections and rituals that we know little about.

The other day, for example, I asked him whether he had played at all with Sean, one of his pals, at school that day. He said yes and then told me, laughing, that they now had a game where they each mess up each others' hair. Apparently this is a fairly regular ritual. Sometimes he tells me shreds of conversations that he has with other kids in his class; a chat with Katherine one day, a funny joke told by Varun the next. I love hearing these stories, but there's a tinge of nostalgia too...he's getting older, and he's making friendships and memories all on his own. It wasn't always thus.

So he's eating carrots and making friends at school--and doing homework! Yes, every Monday he has to draw a picture to represent the "letter of the week" at school. He is still under the impression that homework is fun, so he enjoys these assignments and does them with care.

They study the letters in alphabetical order, so A was the first one to come home. Shouldn't be much of a surprise that Andres drew a picture of Abiyoyo.

A for Abiyoyo.

A proud guy!