Our kids have always been pretty good eaters. If they like it, they like it and get out of their way. The eldest was lunging for lo-mien before he could crawl, and the youngest realized cups were way more efficient than getting mama milk from the source and self weaned a lot earlier than I expected; she can consume more pancakes before nine am than most people do all week.

If they don’t like something, well, we give them a few options; trying it again on another day, dipping them in ketchup or a home-made sauce of one sort or another, feeding it to mom or dad and then trying a bite. But even with, or despite these measures, the youngest can get distractable around dinner time. She’ll amuse herself so much hat she forgets to eat until we’re ready for bed time, then try to shovel it in before dashing up the stairs, cheeks pouched like a chipmunk foraging for a harsh winter.

I’ve not had to sneak in veggies or meats; they luckily graze enough of variety that we can be straightforward in vegetable distribution. We did get a lovely red airplane spoon as a baby gift; that was used for a few attempts at apple sauce, but was more often played with than used to distract the kids into eating. Until this distractable age set in.

So we went back to basics. Dad picked up a spoon, filled it with rice, and announced to the youngest, “Here comes the choo-choo train!” while bringing it closer to her mouth. She chomped it down, swallowed, smiled, and piped up “beep, beep!”, until her father picked up the spoon again to feed her another bite. This time she opened her mouth so widely I briefly envisioned her being hinged at the ears, the top of her head flopping backwards like a marionette. But it worked. She’d beep, he’d pick up the spoon, give her a bite of rice, and set the spoon back down until she beeped him for another bite.

Makes you wonder if that’s how Pavlov got his start.

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