We were at the Farmers Market this morning, doing our usual Sunday morning breakfast and produce shopping. B. had a waffle like he always does, though no pony rides or petting zoo today because it was threatening to rain so we moved through pretty quickly. He got fixated on some baby potatoes and insisted we buy a bag of white, pink and purple spuds. Oh and a red carrot. So I steamed some up as soon as we got home and tossed them with butter and salt hoping to capitalize on his interest (he's NEVER eaten a potato or a regular french fry -- only sweet potatoes). But he refused to touch, taste, sniff or lick them. Such a strange little eater.
Other things that don't translate to an increased palate: offering to buy him a cupcake if he'll eat one bite of fruit. No deal. Having the cutest six-year-old girl he knows offer him a bite of her hamburger. Not gonna eat it. He's even turned down pizza on the very same day I watched him shake pepper flakes over plastic pizza in a play kitchen at school. It. Makes. No. Sense.