(This is a Classic Crib Notes)
There are times when my former career comes in handy when dealing with my youngest child, Mireya.
Recently turned four, Mireya has days when she subsists largely on oxygen. She refuses to eat anything and all of the old standbys – hotdogs, crackers, oranges – are left untouched.
Well, I liked the oranges. Especially sliced really thin.
Anyway, this is generally not a problem at home where somehow I'll find the one item that she'll eat. A pickle. A cheese stick. A bowl of green beans. You just never know.But on the road, visiting with other people who are living with far more civilized eaters, it gets dicey.
Fortunately I've been trained for this with years of experience marketing piles and piles of things no one needs. I can market swimwear to seals, leggings to snakes. I know how to create a need where before there was nothing but a misplaced sense of satisfaction.
Recently we were on a play date when Mireya had rejected all food items I had brought as well as those of our wonderful host. There was one last hope. There were grapes.
Unfortunately, they were purple grapes. Mireya eats only green grapes. I had brought home gorgeous purple grapes just a few days before, grapes so sweet that butterflies were dancing around me with great abandon and bees made me promise I'd toss a few out into the garden. Grapes so beautiful that I just wanted to line them up and take their picture for a cooking show audition.
You get the idea.
Mireya wouldn't touch them. I believe her exact words were "I no like PURPLE!" but it was hard to understand her as she fled in horror to her room.
But now we were a long way from home, a long way from green grapes and cheese sticks. So I reached into my bag of tricks and pulled - the princess card.
Mireya believes fervently in all things princess. She understands the power and glory of being a princess and has enough gowns to attend a different ball every day for the rest of the year.
I looked at the purple grapes and, with what I hoped was an incredulous expression, I said, "Mireya – look at this! Do you know what these are?"
She began to scrunch up her face, so I rushed ahead. "Remember on the Princess Movie? These were the grapes they had there." I lowered my voice, lest the peasants overhear us. "These are PRINCESS GRAPES."
Her eyes grew wide and she reached for a purple grape. It was all over. Then, the next day, she was downing the previously distained (but now re-marketed) Royal Purple Grapes like there was no tomorrow.
Yes, I feel a little bad about it. After I left my life as a professional marketer, I swore I would only use my powers for good. But, as she ran off that day, her cheeks filled with sweet purple grapes, I decided that in this case, the ends justified the means
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