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Sudie Crouch
My child has always had a good appetite. As a small child, he was not a picky eater and begged for healthy fare, like celery and apples. The only thing he ever had an issue with was he preferred my cooking, even if the ‘cooking’ was merely toasting waffles. Somehow, I made it taste better. He would eat anything, everything that was made. Until one day, he didn’t. He would turn up his nose and frown at what I had made, claiming he wasn’t hungry. “You were hungry about an hour ago,” I tell him.