Parents
experience a variety of proud moments as they watch their children grow: first word,
first day of school, spelling bee victory, piano recital, high school
graduation, Nobel Prize, Supreme Court confirmation. I have known some of
these and might know others in the future. However, while in Paris last week, I
experienced one of my proudest moments to date. My son ate a snail.
It was
our first evening in the city. Having endured an overnight flight and a bleary
half-day of sightseeing, we were very much feeling the mild disorientation that
comes from great exhilaration combined with even greater exhaustion. We decided
to eat dinner at a café just around the corner from our rented
apartment and settled in for a carafe of wine and some down-to-earth fare.
My husband and I ordered a starter of escargots while we perused the menu.
My
13-year old son Paxton, tired and moody as we all were, flatly refused to
sample one of our snails. He had his mind and heart set on a
steak-frites, and nothing was going to get in his way. So we started
working on our younger son Declan,
who would turn nine the next day. He appeared receptive but
noncommittal. He asked what the snail would taste like, and what was all
that green stuff on top? This was
promising, as he has only recently emerged from a diet consisting primarily of
pasta, chicken nuggets, peanut butter sandwiches and plain cheese pizza.
Finally
settling on a 10-euro bribe, Declan picked up the shell with a steel
clamp, plucked out the escargot with a tiny fork, and scrutinized it as it
dripped garlic, parsley and butter. He sniffed, then examined it some
more, carefully turning it and holding it up to the light. Finally, after
much discussion and only mild cajoling, and with a surprising amount of alacrity
and enthusiasm, he popped it into this mouth and began chewing happily.
At that moment, several tables in our immediate vicinity erupted in applause,
and we realized that at least a dozen people had been waiting to see if the
little American boy would actually eat his first snail as they watched.
Declan was mortified. My husband and I beamed.
Why do I
care that he ate a snail? Because it indicates a willingness to try
something new, of course. And since trying and loving new foods has been such a significant source of
joy in my life, I felt a surge of happiness and hope that my son would now have
all that pleasure available to him. In that moment, his palate opened
just a bit -- enough to let in a snail. Not that he doesn't still enjoy a
good slice of plain cheese pizza. Don't we all?
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