To the Mothers of Picky Eaters

First, let's clarify.

If your child turns their nose up at the plate of broccoli in front of them, they're not picky.
If you can manage to get them to try said broccoli, they're not picky.

If your child leaves the crust of their PB&J untouched, they're not picky.
If they prefer their veggies raw, but not cooked, or maybe cooked and not raw, they're not picky.

If they'll eat dinner served in the shape of a monster or princess crown, they're not picky.
If they finish the spoonfuls of green beans on their plate because they helped you "cook" them, they're not picky.

If your child think food is delicious when you drop it into their mouth from up high, they're not picky.
If they only like to eat with toothpicks, chopsticks, or grilling tongs, they're not picky.

Being picky is different.

It's complaining about the temperature of the water in a sippy cup.
It's refusing to eat a popsicle because, surely, it has fruit in it.
It's turning down chocolate milk because hot chocolate is better.
It's the inability to finish half of a PB&J because the crusts are still on.
It's not being able to eat the same exact meal two days in a row, even though it was great the first time.
It's requesting a particular meal and by the time it's ready, it doesn't look good anymore.
It's only liking mac and cheese if it's made with a packet of powder.
It's hating the grilled cheese and PB&J sandwiches from the kid's menu.

So, to the mothers of picky eaters, I'll be toasting to you tonight (as long as the waiter brings my red at room temperature).