Tonight, while making a turkey sandwich for the boy and cutting off the crusts, I pondered the curse of the picky eater. I thought people who were picky eaters as children were the ones who were supposed to be cursed with them as parents, but I WASN'T a picky eater. I ate almost anything I was given, including cow tongue.
I didn't eat liver, but that was more about the texture than the taste, and, really, none of us kids did and we weren't expected to. My mother made us a fried egg when that was on the menu. The rule with everything else was we had to taste something and if we didn't like it we didn't have to eat it.
The only other thing I can remember being really picky about was flying ants. My brother and sister used to scarf them down as the rare treats they were, but I didn't enjoy the flavor. I did, however, like to eat the heads of leaf cutter ants- they tasted a bit like peppermint, though one did have to avoid the pincers.
One thing that sometimes helps my picky eater is ketchup- I remembered that I liked ketchup on lots of things- bread and rice, for example- and thought it might help him out a little. But it's frustrating.
Luckily his sister is such an easy eater- she's good for almost anything, and if she doesn't like it much will usually eat it anyways.