I am a father of four children. And they all have to eat, as I was told, preferably several times a day.
If I would let them choose what the pot would be, I would have a pizza with gummi bears, fries with whipped cream and six happy meals with extra gifts on the table every day. So I decide what we eat every day, and that is why I get the question (four times a day); 'What are we eating tonight ?'
This looks like grass with poo
I have always wondered why children proudly show their empty plates. Like "Look, Daddy, I did it to get your filthy stuff through my throat, right?"
I make them happy with fries and pizza, or a combination of those two, but they also need vitamins. A plate of rice still goes, but when you throw bean sprouts and peanut sauce, they compare your creation with the creation of the dog. Grass with poo, worms with woodlice (with poo) or simply poo with hard pieces of poo in it. Their imagination knows no bounds.
If you eat your plate empty, you will get an ice cream
The pedagogically acclaimed reward system, will I try that?
Armed with a box of ice creams and cookies in the shape of a cartoon figure, I walk into the kitchen and tell them that we are eating cauliflower. The dirty looks disappear quickly when they see the box of ice cream in my hand. Before they can ask if they can have an ice cream, I tell them that they are AFTER eating. And again the facial expressions changed, this time I compare them with the face of Frodo, who in The Lord of the rings gets the impossible task to drop that ring.
The end is near
After the impossible task to get my (with love) food inside, they are entitled to that ice cream, promised is promised. The fact that they have put the cauliflower, like Moses at the Red Sea, to the sides of their plate to create the optical illusion that it is almost finished I take for granted. They have done their best. Mission accomplished. They have their dessert, I have put some vitamins in them, dad happy, children happy.