Here's To Buttered Noodles and Bad Pizza

And accepting that what's best for them isn't always what's good for them

I had the best of intentions.

Like any expectant parent, I told myself things that, at the time, I believed to be true about how I was going to raise my future children—and more specifically, about how I was going to feed them.

I told myself that I would only serve them fresh, nutritious, whole foods—quality ingredients simply crafted into nourishing dishes. At the same time, I would work to foster adventurous palates, and help to develop in them the same love that I have for trying new things and experiencing new flavors. I would raise junior gastronomes, kids who would be as comfortable picking out fresh produce at a farmer’s market as they would ordering in French at a white-tablecloth restaurant.

Well, as Mike Tyson once said, everyone has a plan until they’re punched in the mouth.

I suppose I should be clear here—my children have not literally punched me in the mouth over dinnertime disagreements. Not yet, at least. But there have been times they’ve thrown such horrendous fits over …