It’s a good thing my parents don’t read my blog. If they did, they’d have to endure all the references to my childhood diet of Steak-umms, cherry Kool-Aid, the canned corned beef (and of course, my mom would have to relive the Chocolate Milk Incident).
Sam helps my mom pick garden carrots.
But after spending several days with them at my childhood home in Pennsylvania, I’m reminded of all the ways they’ve shaped my eating habits for the better.
So thanks, Mom and Dad, for…
- growing a vegetable garden every year (and letting me plan and plant my own patch when I wanted to).
- serving salad nearly every night with dinner.
- never forcing me to sit at the table until I took a bite of lima beans or other hated food.
- teaching me what a reasonable portion looks like by plating all the food at the stove.
- discouraging us from overeating by making only enough food for the meal.
- stocking the house with fresh fruits and vegetables.
- telling me to eat only until I was full and never, ever demanding that I clean my plate.
![]( "My parents' garden")
My parents' garden
