I have two daughters. A nine year old, Poptart; a two year old, Bitsey. My two year old is going through that "I won't eat unless it's sausage, bologna, chicken or peaches" stage. My nine year old went through that stage and never left....... feeding her is such a major obstacle. She will eat junk, but if she even remotely thinks something has the slightest chance of being the tiniest bit healthy, you can forget about it. So, I've had it. I'm fed up with trying to convince her that healthier foods are good too. This morning I fixed breakfast. Fried sausage, and cheese omletes (made from fat free cheese and homegrown eggs). Instantly Poptart started "I want Fruiti Pebbles... without milk." No. "Well, can I have a poptart?" No. "What some pancakes?" *sigh* No, I made breakfast and you're going to sit down and eat it. While I'm finishing up breakfast, she's standing over me grumbling and carrying on.... and then she sees the brown egg shells. OMG. You'd have thought I was trying to sneak poison in her eggs, which she's convinced are THE grossest thing ever anyway, and now I'm givng her eggs from our very own chickens and sausage, which is a meat that's got other stuff in it, is not battered and doesn't get dipped in ranch, regardless of weather it's fried or not. SHE. IS. GOING. TO. DIE. This is the worst day ever. I hate her. She's going to starve. Blah, blah, blah. Ya know what? I've decided she can sit at that table til lunch time if she doesn't eat her breakfast... then she can eat it for lunch. I mean seriously. I've had it. So, there we sit. Bitsey and I have eaten our breakfast. Bitsey actually attempted her eggs, and ate about half of them, along with a piece of sausage and drank a cup of milk. Good girl. Love it when she eats a good breakfast. And there sits Poptart. Pushing her food around on her plate, like she's making a design out of the acid seeping from it..... And we sit. Finally she picks up a bite and drenches it in ketchup and forces herself to eat it. OMG... she's going to throw up. Another bite. No quite so much ketchup this time. Gag. This is the point where I tell her, if you throw up you're going to eat your breakfast out of your throw up. Seriously, I have had it with her. Another bite, no gagging this time. It's miraculous. So, finally, she taken her last bite of egg and eaten about half her sausage. Mind you, it's taken her about 45 minutes to do so. She looks at me and says "Ya know, that wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be. I guess I can eat our chicken's eggs... but don't try to sneak any in from the grocery store, I'll know the difference." * * * * * * * REALLY? But hey, at least she ate her breakfast. And she's actually upstairs playing with her sister now, instead of sitting on the couch complaining about how tired she is.