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Epiblogue: The field trip comes back to school

Submitted by on Friday, 27 February 2009 4 Comments
img_1906For months, Big Guy had asked when his broccoli would come.

His class had planted seedlings during a Halloween visit to a family farm. We visited the plant a few times - the row was marked with his school's name, though I sincerely doubt we were calling on the "right" plant. The owners had promised to bring the broccoli to the school when it was ready, so every few weeks Big Guy would ask if it were time yet.

I knew Thursday when I saw another mom leave the cafeteria with a broccoli bouquet that the day had arrived. This event, I'm sure, would be Big Guy's vegetable epiphany. Seeing the results of his own labor - even if playing in dirt for a few minutes hardly qualifies as labor - would convert him to a vegetable lover.

Or not.

"Mommy! Mommy! I have my broccoli. But ewwwwwwwwww! I'm not going to eat it. Here, you can have it for lunch," he said, shoving the bunch at Boots.

His verdict was pretty close to unanimous.

"Broccoli is yuck!" a classmate declared.

"Aw, you should try it with cheese sauce. It's good that way," I told her.

"Somebody else said that. But I still don't like it."

"Maybe ranch dip?" I suggested.

She wrinkled her nose. "That's for chips."

Big Guy will eat chips, too. But he doesn't like potatoes. Except for French fries, which he denies are potatoes even though the oven fries I insist on feeding him at home are dangerously close.

And Big Guy wants to plant a garden. He did last year, too, and keeps reminding me - maybe taunting is a better word - that we never got around to it.

What does he want in his garden?

"Tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, onions, corn ..."img_1908

"But you won't eat any of that stuff."

He shrugged. "I like to make salsa."

Once in a while, he will delicately dip a corner of a chip into the soupy part of the salsa. He's careful, though, to make sure none of that chunky stuff jumps on.

I'd be tempted to give the garden a try, even though plants have no hope if I'm in charge, except there's a good chance we'll move this summer. The last thing I need is pleas to transplant tomatoes and tearful wails when the movers won't go along.

Meanwhile, Boots devoured the broccoli. All of it, without ranch dip.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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4 Comments »

  • Kathleen McDade said:

    He probably wont believe you, but homegrown broccoli is SO MUCH BETTER than store-bought. Grew some last year and loved it.

  • Debra said:

    He he he. I was thinking the same thing myself after I sampled the few tiny bites Boots let me have. I’m a broccoli fan anyway but WOW! One more reason to get behind community-supported agriculture, for those of us who are simply incapable of growing our own.

  • jckat said:

    It’s funny, none of my kids would eat broccoli as kids but they all love it now. It’s neat they let them plant it and then bring it to them.

  • Debra said:

    This family farm is a really neat place, and they do this type of project for many of the local schools. They have a petting zoo, fish pond and play ground, too, so it’s one of our favorite spots year-round. Great education for the kids, too, because they get to learn that food doesn’t just magically appear in grocery stores.

    I’m still holding out hope with Big Guy and the broccoli. A lot of things I didn’t like when I was a kid I love now – though I was never as picky as this child.