Wednesday, August 8, 2007

Orange Apple

Here's a quick rundown of what fruits and vegetables my kids eat:

Sam: Peas, corn, melons, apples.

Jack: Corn on the cob, and tomato sauce if he can't scrape it completely off the pasta before he has to eat it. (Jack, quite literally, has not voluntarily eaten a fruit or vegetable since before he turned one, other than the occassional bite of corn. I don't think people believe me, but it's&#8212sadly&#8212very true.)

Quinn: Pretty much anything he can get his hands on. Whereas I used to be able to eat a salad without anyone wanting a bite, now he mugs me on a daily basis.

All of which is a lead-in to a tale of Quinn's new favorite fruit: the orange apple. Known to most by its proper name: the orange.

Ever since I took him to the grocery store and let him carry an orange around to keep him busy, Quinn has been obsessed with them. On that particular trip he took several bites out of the peel, grimacing after each one, but then going back for more. Once we bought the thing and I showed him that there was delicious fruit inside the peel, he was hooked.

Now he's kind of a nightmare to take to the grocery store, or at least the produce section, because he screams at the top of his tiny (but quite effective) lungs about "Orange apple! Orange apple! Orange apple!" The last time we went, I spent a fair amount of time in front of the orange display trying to figure out what he meant by pointing urgently at the naval oranges and shouting, "The blue one! The blue one!" Sam and Jack kept trying to help: "He wants that one." Then I would ask, "This one, Quinn?" And then he would bellow, "The blue one! The blue one!" I never did quite figure out what he meant, but I did manage to finally find an acceptable orange.

The problem intensifies when we get home and he wants to play with the orange apples. I was forced to move our fruit bowl to a counter location he couldn't reach even if he pushed a chair up to it. Needless to say, he objected. Loudly.

The other day he was carrying three of them around. He would put them on a table in front of him and keep an eye on them, as he is too little to actually hold three oranges for a sustained period of time. Jack, for some reason (perhaps that it's fun to torture a little brother), kept taking them and giving them to me. And then, you guessed it, Quinn would start screaming.

I think the word that captures Quinn's personality is strident.

A couple days ago, I peeled one for him at his request. He then refused to eat it and started yelling, "'Nother orange apple! 'Nother orange apple!" When I said no he screamed at me in his little high-pitched voice for a good ten minutes. You can ask my mom; she was on the other end of the phone laughing. I thought it was less funny.

Seven and a half hours later when he agreed to eat the orange, which I'd put in the refrigerator, he took a couple bites and then put it on a table and wandered off. When Cassidy walked within five or six feet of it, Quinn ran faster than I have ever seen him run to protect it, yelling, "Cass, no orange!" And then about five minutes later he threw it at her. And she ate it. Which means she officially has eaten more fruit in her life than Jack has. Quinn happily watched her eat it and then sadly cried, "Mine food. Mine food."

At least it's fruit and not candy, right? But, still, Quinn and his goddamn orange apples have sort of become the bane of my existence.

1 comment:

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