The war of the peas...

There's a book by Kes Gray called 'Eat Your Peas' about Daisy, a little girl who does not like peas and won't eat them.

Her mother, desperate to persuade Daisy to eat the little green legume, promises her daughter ever more extravagant gifts from extra pudding to a pony and even a chocolate factory.

I am that mother. I have a Daisy.

"I don't like peas," says H8 at meal times.

"But peas like you," I tell her. "Eat up."

She pushes them around her plate and eats one - the smallest - grudgingly.

What is it with peas? Peas are delicious. The guinea pigs don't eat peas. They'll eat celery which astonishes my two children immensely. They may even try it themselves. (Actually they did: R6 liked it.) Guinea pigs are excellent role models. But they won't eat peas.

I have tried hiding them in food. Carrot can be grated and hidden as can other root vegetables (with the exception of beetroot which has a habit of revealing itself in even the minutest concentrations and anyway I don't like beetroot).

Peas won't be hidden. A pea is a pea no matter how you try to dress it up.

I thought all children loved peas. I know grown men who don't eat vegetables, but will eat peas. I've seen peas in cat food tins in France, which confirms the fact that French cats are possibly quite strange. Mice, oui. Petit pois? Oui!

H8 won't eat garden peas (frozen or fresh) or petit pois (ditto). Mangetout, perhaps. But only small ones. Pea shoots? Grudgingly.

There is one vegetable, however, hated almost universally by children (adults too) across the globe that she adores. Brussels sprouts.

We were in Tesco in Carmarthen. H8 spotted sprouts.

"Can I have some sprouts Mummy?"

Me, consulting list, brain elsewhere: "No. They're not on my list." (It's a rule, if it's not on the list, we don't get to buy it. This is especially useful in Dangerous Places such as Biscuits, Confectionery or Frozen Desserts, but sometimes I have to surreptitiously add things like toilet rolls to the list unobserved.)

"Oh pleeeese," whines H8 attracting the attention of a woman pushing her trolley towards other brassicas.

"No," I repeat. There's a budget to be adhered to as well.

H8: "I want sprouts."

Me on autopilot: "I want never gets." (I want to slap myself when I say that too.)

H8, like the sweetest, well-mannered little child on the planet: "Please Mummy may I have some sprouts." Woman with Trolley in Brassicas is watching with open interest now.

Me: "Oh go on then."

H8 snatches a bag and starts counting sprouts into it. Maths and good nutrition all in one. Woman with Trolley in Brassicas stifles a snigger in the cauliflowers.

She still won't eat peas. She already has a pony. I'm saving for the chocolate factory.