Lazy? Maybe.

Maybe I'm lazy. Maybe I'm just rising above. Maybe I'm lazy disguised as rising above. I don't know and don't care.

For a long while we had Henry's occupational therapist doing a specialized kind of eating therapy called S.O.S. On paper, it made all the sense in the world. On paper, it looked like the answer to all our problems. In real life, I convinced myself it was working. Well, maybe it was, but if so, it wasn't enough to make a sizable difference.

Henry had a huge satisfactory list of foods when he was two. At three the list was much shorter, meal times were painful, and we needed help. With therapy he became more and more tolerant of new foods on his plate, and we saw less meltdowns at meal times, but his list of accepted foods really didn't change. We then changed his food therapy from individual to paired, joining a boy about Henry's age with similar issues. We hoped the positive peer pressure would help both boys. Not really.

Not long after the other boy quit therapy altogether, we made the decision to forgo S.O.S. for more pressing, kindergarten-ready issues like Henry's acceptance of fine motor activities. (With this he has persevered and continues to make excellent progress. I am so proud.) We had achieved the goals of more visual tolerance (seeing the food without anxiety) and more trying of foods (at least one "no, thank you" bite), but his diet was the same and - frankly - I was tired. Henry was too.

One of the (many) things Henry still doesn't like is sandwiches. He loves pita bread and he loves shredded cheese, so tonight I showed him how to put some cheese inside his pita. (Not for the first time, but just the first in awhile.) "Isn't that neat?" I cheerfully asked. He promptly dumped the cheese out of the pita. I grinned and walked away.

So, maybe I'm a lazy heifer who needs to try harder. Or maybe I'm just learning to accept my boy for who he is.