There’s no mystery in the fact that Ryan is a picky eater.  I blame this entirely on his mother.  Restaurant owners throughout New York cringe at the site of Jenn walking into a restaurant because they know, as sure as the sun will rise, that their neatly planned menu is about to be torn apart with requests like, “Can you put that on the side without this and only that slightly grilled.” 

So I figured that Ryan’s picky eating habits were inherited and that we’d simply be forced to work around them.  Then, this morning, I get a text message from Jenn that read: “He likes the nasty floating meat links :)” with the attached picture: 

Look at these things!  They’re called “Meat Sticks” and they make me want to puke in my mouth and yet I haven’t seen a smile that big on his face since his first taste of ice cream!  They look like a jar full of thumbs!