Can somebody explain to me why a 6-year-old can’t eat a casserole? It’s the coming together and baking of all things yummy. And usually involves cheese. What is it about mixing foods together that turns a child off?

I mean it’s exactly how the feeding of this child began. I was mixing my milk with the baby cereal. Then came the baby food. We’d buy Grandmas’s Turkey Dinner – which is organic baby carrots, apples, turkey and wild rice, blended down into 4 ounces of a mushy Thanksgiving meal. It’s practically a liquid casserole – in a jar.

Same with the fruits – we’d give him a jar of bananas, peaches and raspberries. Veggies too – a jar of carrot, tomato and green beans. Everything was mixed. Even breakfast – a jar of oatmeal with apples and cinnamon. In fact, we made plain banana his dessert, since it wasn’t a mix of five different sides.

I think from there, we went on to spaghetti. And he’ll eat spaghetti with meatballs and sauce. Just don’t bake it – can’t have it being held together with 4 cups of mozzarella cheese or anything. And don’t think pulling it apart helps his little brain to break it all down. It came out of the oven as a casserole, and no amount of separating all the parts and pieces is gonna erase that Southern discomfort from his brain.

Turkey and noodles? Great. Just don’t tetrazzini that thing. In fact, don’t even put the turkey on top of the noodles. Something might coagulate, and we’d have a lot more melting down than just the cheese. And don’t even get me started on quiche. Something being held together by soup or cheese is one thing, but in his mind, nothing should be held together by egg.

I ask him what exactly it is that bothers him about a casserole. And he says it’s mixing all these different foods together. OK, fine, but then explain how it is that you can eat a burrito. Or chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Or a bacon cheeseburger all the way. The sub sandwiches he makes contain all four food groups, for crying out loud, and it’s all smashed together on a roll.

He says he doesn’t like it cooked all together. So I tell him if I ever have to have surgery, and the casseroles and pot pies start rolling in from friends and the church, I’ll just have to ask that they please send it disassembled, so my son can help himself before it goes in the oven.

“Chicken pot pie? I’ll eat that.”

Go figure.