The Picky Eater's Recovery Book の小説・ストーリー

Evelyn’s P.O.V. Five years later. “I want white sauce spaghetti, mommy. This sandwich is not tasty.” My little Eddie was making faces at peanut butter sandwiches, his picky eating was really challenging for me. Unlike the kids of his age, he was growing fast, but his eating patterns were worsening day by day. “You have started boiling spaghetti? You are the best, mommy.” He wrapped his tiny arms around my leg, I picked him up and sat him on the counter.

Paula acted like it was no big deal, shoving greasy chicken wings into her mouth while saying carelessly, "Like hell I'm eating that flavorless crap anymore! That watery soup garbage is driving me nuts. So what if I want some real food? "My body's tough as nails. I'm not that fragile." "You're gambling with your own health! You just had an amputation, and your wound hasn't even healed yet. This kind of food will slow your recovery," I persuaded her. "Stop trying to spook me! I know my own body better than anyone. You just don't want me enjoying myself, so you're making up reasons." Paula glared at me viciously and continued wolfing down her takeout. I knew Paula's temperament well enough to

I said, grinning from teeth to teeth like a child. We walked into the library. It looked like it had been a while, since it was in use. We went through several sections which included, finance, self-improvement, ethics, business amongst all. I caught a glimpse of a book I had been wanting to read, “Atomic Habits” by James Clear. I picked it immediately, and started going through it. After a while, I noticed I wasn't hearing any sound from the cook. I looked around and found her wiping tears off her eyes with the hem of her apron.

At dinner, the family sat around the table. Sophia sat to Mom's right. Jack sat to Dad's left. I was seated at the far end. "Eat up," Mom said automatically. I immediately picked up my fork. Steak, mashed potatoes, green beans. When I ate the green beans, Jack's eyes went wide. "No way! You actually eat green beans now? You were the pickiest eater ever!" I didn't answer. The instructor had said preferences were "emotional residue," a sign of incomplete rehabilitation.