Food fight

When I was a teenager I had a good friend with an extremely limited diet. His mom prepared or bought the same two or three meals for him every night for dinner. If eating at my house, he would bring his own in a fast food bag or my mom would feel obligated to make a different meal. I remember thinking he was spoiled rotten and didn't have manners. (Friend, if you are reading this, you have my deepest apologies for being a judgmental brat.)

Now I wonder. Was he spoiled or did he have sensory processing disorder? Did his mother smile politely while hearing, "Oh, he'll eat if he's hungry enough"? Did she hide her embarrassment every time she provided a separate meal? Did she feel defeated and sick-to-death of chicken fingers in her home?

Either way, it wasn't my place to judge.

I have that son now. We've heard it all and done it all. Cereal bars, almonds, and Craisins accompany all our journeys. We've enjoyed pleasant mealtimes when new foods were tried, we've seen food-induced anxiety, and we've seen the pinnacle of terrified meltdowns.

We've involved him in meal planning and preparing, read books about food, exposed him to gardens and picked fruits and vegetables.

We've tried bribing, yelling, loving coaxing, and cool indifference. We've given him choices. We've given him no choices. We've withheld treats. We've spent months in food therapy.

Nothing works. Sure, therapy improved his tolerance of different foods on his plate. He sometimes concedes and tries it. But, even if he actually likes the bite, he won't have another bite. "No, thank you."

I see one of two futures spreading out in front of us.

1. Henry figures it out.
2. He doesn't, and he spends his life eating pizza and Chick-fil-a.

Please, Lord, for the health of my boy, don't let it be future #2.

Incidentally, my friend grew out of it. He reports to eating everything now, even sushi. I can only hope this will be true for Henry too. I know of another grown man who eats only peanut butter sandwiches, so God only knows. I just know I won't judge if I ever find myself in a fine restaurant and see a grown man eating Chick-fil-a on a china plate.  It could be Henry.