Don't do this to your child
aka why I don't like scrambled eggs
Picture it. Christmas Eve, sometime in the 1980s. I was always given one gift to open on the Eve of Christmas. This particular year, I knew Roller Skating Barbie was under the tree. I could not wait to unleash her from all those plastic ties in the box. My dad had made scrambled eggs for dinner (apparently I must have liked them prior to this night), and for some reason (well, that reason will be come clear shortly). I didn’t want to eat them. My beloved dad was the only adult in my life that didn’t nag me about eating but for some reason, that night, when I told him I didn’t want the eggs, he threatened withholding my Christmas Eve Barbie if I didn’t. This was so out of character for my dad, and it backfired big time. Desperate to put those little red roller skates on Barbie, I ate the scrambled eggs. Fast forward a few hours, and it turns out I must have had a virus (possibly the reason I didn’t want to eat in the first place); I ended up throwing up eggs all night. I don’t remember how old I was, but I do know, that was the very last time I ate scrambled eggs. Even now, being willing to try almost any food, that is one of two, I just can’t get myself to try. Every article I write has a picky eater tip. This is one of the biggest. Please, don’t force anyone to eat anything they don’t want to. Don’t even push it a little. It doesn’t work and it usually backfires.
In case you’re wondering, before the vomiting started, I did have a fabulous time playing, not just with Roller Skating Barbie, but also with her roller boyfriend, Ken.