The 'My Kid Can't Eat This' Instagram Account Will Bring Back Memories

I’m 49, and I agree with these children. Especially this one:

I wouldn’t either. Seriously, if a roasted pepper, or any pepper that has been treated in any way other than being taken straight out of the fridge, touches my food, it’s game over. Cooked peppers are disgusting, and everybody should think so. If you put one in my sandwich, the sandwich is unsalvageable. (Not so a tomato, which can be removed safely.)

Does that look appealing to you? I don’t care that it’s going to get mooshed up inside my stomach, by the way. I want it whole when I eat it.

I’m with the kid on this one. I am sure there is something the other peaches had going on that these peaches don’t. “The last peaches” aren’t necessarily “the peaches I remember liking.” I want the other ones too, whatever they are.

I’m sorry, I agree. The pickle with the fork in it is sad. Just look at it.

As someone who gets up and swaps out her fork for a different one because the weight isn’t right, I understand.

OK, this one’s just funny. Unless there’s some secret trick to different peeling styles I haven’t yet discovered. Don’t rule anything out just yet.

You don’t see that? The breading IS broken! Who would eat that?

Would you want to eat the same thing yesterday you ate today? Why should you have to?

The kid’s got a point. I now want to do this to all of my food.

Valid. There are ugly bumps. And it’s not a doughnut.

I admit it, I was the pickiest kid EVER, with all kinds of rules about food that touched on what it was, how it was prepared, and what it was next to. And now my youngest, who is 7, is paying me back. And I’m not allowed to complain, I’m told, because of my own food history.

So to make up for it, I accede to some of her fussier demands. That’s why you’ll find me picking out the red berries from her red berry cereal, or setting aside a section of dough to change the chocolate chip cookies to peanut butter chip cookies. This is the TRUE payback; I’m doing for her what nobody did for me, even though I agree it’s ridiculous to do so.

In the meantime, rock on, fussy kids! Because when you have the perfect plate, the ideal fork, a nice wrapper, and your food is intact and has sprinkles on it, you’re one happy camper.