An (almost) acquired taste

So here we are, midway through week two of Elijah's eight-week summer adventure at Camp Kidz Rock, a day camp for kids on the autism spectrum.

And what a summer it is shaping up to be! I was determined to find him a place that would be what summer camp is supposed to be: Active, outdoorsy, engaging and adventuresome. A place that understood autism and its limitations but was not encumbered by those limitations. A place that would mix him in with "typical" kids, without expecting him to BE a typical kid. A place that would never use the words "computer" and "camp" in the same sentence. (Really, that ought to be against the law.)

It appears that we have hit the jackpot. Already, Elijah has played kickball, T-ball, tag and Red Rover. He's had a skinned elbow, a sweaty forehead and grass-stained knees. He's learned new songs, tried out several musical instruments and gone on multiple field trips. He's learned about teamwork and sportsmanship. He'll be going to a minor-league baseball game this week. And he always has a smile on his face when I pick him up in the afternoons.

Most notable, though, is the fact that the camp therapists have actually coaxed him to eat foods that are outside his list.

If you've ever been a parent, or have even spent much time in the vicinity of small children, you know what I mean by the "list." It's that limited number of foods that most small children will eat -- pizza, chicken nuggets, that sort of thing. I remember being a fanatically picky eater as a child (and frankly, I still am), and I don't know a mother anywhere who hasn't pulled her hair out over the refusal of her little darlings to eat anything "normal." Many young children will eat only beige food, or go days or even weeks eating ONE food only (mac and cheese -- which of course is beige! -- seems to be the most common obsession of these one-dish diners).

Elijah's list, on the other hand, is fairly broad. He'll eat several types of protein (hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken nuggets, milk, cheese and eggs) as well as two vegetables (carrots and broccoli) and a smattering of other things, mostly sugar-filled. Granola bars are one of his favorite foods, and if you think this is a good thing, you obviously haven't read the nutrition and ingredient labels on granola bars lately.

But his list has not changed one iota in nearly four years. And when you are not yet six years old, that's quite a while.

Of course, the parenting "experts" of the world have all sorts of theories about why kids like Elijah (along with about 80 percent of his age cohort) are such picky eaters. They write entire books about it, and from what I can tell by reading the dust jackets and book reviews (which is as far as I will go), they cast blame squarely on the demise of the "family dinner hour."

The what?

I don't know about you, but the family dinner hour has never been much a part of my life, or the lives of most people I know. I did an informal poll at work, involving everyone who happened to be within earshot on a recent evening, and we are all frankly stumped about this "family dinner hour." One co-worker theorized that it was something that occurred back in the immediate post-World War II era, just before the invention of TV dinners. Another was convinced it was a complete fiction invented by previous generations to be used as a tool to heap guilt on working mothers who couldn't possibly get home in time to fix dinner and sports-obsessed fathers who kept their kids in organized youth activities well into the evening all year long.

In any case, even those co-workers who are well into their 60s suspect that this family dinner hour thing is a myth, because they have no memory of it, either as children or during their child-rearing years.

Perhaps it should be noted that this poll was underway at approximately 7:30 p.m., which would be ..... the family dinner hour? Beats us.

But Elijah is now learning all about family-style dining. That's because his camp takes place at a campus shared by a Montessori school, where family dining is the rule. The "campus" is actually a group of adjacent cottages on a quiet residential street with a very cozy, homey feeling. The campers eat with the Montessori kids, out on big picnic tables underneath gigantic oak trees on the school's playground.

The point, I've surmised, is to teach table manners. As in, pass the potatoes, please. May I have some more roast beef? Would you like some green beans? Thank you for the apple slices!

You'll notice I didn't put quotes around those words, because I myself have never heard them spoken by our little camper. Yes, we have the "please" and "thank you" thing down (we are not total cretins, after all), but .... roast beef? Green beans? Apple slices? These are nowhere near Elijah's list, and neither are most of the other things on the menu (things like "lemony pasta salad," for instance).

But through extensive coaxing and bribing, the camp staff have persuaded Elijah to eat two bites of a turkey sandwich, two bites of corn, three bites of cheese quesadillas and FOUR entire bites of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich -- a miracle I personally witnessed on a "family day" field trip to a botanical garden (Which also featured a lovely performance by professional harpists at a beautifully landscaped clearing in the woods. Elijah is absolutely captivated by stringed instruments.)

So far there has not been any consumption of fruit -- a food group that apparently affects Elijah the same way seafood and organ meats affect me. As in -- forget it.

Every day since he was born, he has seen me eat fruit -- I LOVE fruit -- and we are now approaching his sixth birthday without any interest on his part in the myriad varieties of fruit I put on his plate. (True quote from his pediatrician: "Sometimes, it takes up to 20 tries before a child is willing to put a new food in his mouth." Yeah, right. At this point, we have reached well over 1,000 tries. Thanks, doc.)

The camp staff have gotten as far as having Elijah put a bit of strawberry in his mouth, which he spits out as soon as he is allowed to. But still, this represents progress. And progress is a very exciting thing.

Next up: Elijah's birthday! The camp will be celebrating it, as it falls within the "parties and celebrations"-themed session, which begins next week. And of course, we have our own party planned for him, with about 10 or 12 young guests and their parents, poolside at our health club. In addition to an hour of pool time, there'll be plenty of pizza, cake and ice cream.

And, since it's HIS day -- not a bit of fruit in sight.