For the love of sultanas. A story inspired by your favourite snack

A lot to stomach

Our story begins in the realm of Sultana. A world where delicious squishy brown buttons reigned supreme. Did you know sultanas came to us all the way from Turkey? Attractive? Maybe not, but they were my very favourite food friend.

When I was just a little tike and still in nappies, Mum went through quite a rough trot. One day, while on an outing with her mummy friends she created quite a stir while inspecting my nappy. Out escaped a string of words I was becoming quite accustomed to hearing, What the sultana! All the babies toddled over to see what the fuss was about and would you believe that it took six hands to clean me up. I kid you not. That's how my sultana addiction affected me and my family.

The inconveniences didn't stop there. The older I grew, the more sultanas I consumed. Not only were my motions glaringly regular but I refused to let any of the fancy meals mum whipped up so  much as touch my lips. Not her saucy eggplant bake or her crusty salmon with pea puree and  truffle mash. Not even her scrumptious melt-in-the-middle brownies could lead my taste buds astray.

On the plus side going out was never any trouble for mum. There weren't any of the worries that other mums seemed to have when it came to preparing meals. She didn't have to cook in batches or worry about my food being too hot or too cold and there was never a time when I went off sultanas, not even when I had teeth coming through. She always had a packet on hand. They were cheap and cheerful, as she used to say.

But one day during a random check up, my mother was scolded by a doctor with wispy eyebrows and nose hairs to match. The doc seemed to spit at mum as he delivered the results from my recent blood tests. Your son is positively pale and lacking in all the major vitamins and minerals. What on earth are you feeding him? But before Mum could answer, he smacked his pointer at the poster of the five food groups and began his spiel about the benefits of a balanced diet. One in which fibre and energy were not the only components.

Mum knew this all along, she's my mum after all and not at all silly. Really, what she was thinking was how the sun-dried grape do you suppose I change Rohan's eating habits? I'd only ever eaten sultanas, you see. They were all I'd ever wanted.

Mum shook her head and lowered her eyes as the doctor's suggestions, all the while  mentally crossing off each and every one. Substitution? Fail. Peer pressure. Far too independent. Disguise. Not a chance. Elimination. He'd rather starve. There's no doubt about it, exclaimed the doctor. This is a hairy case. The likes of which I haven't seen before. I had no idea what he was talking about. The only hairs I could spot were the ones on his shrivelled up face. His parting words to mum were, I really do hope to see a turn around. For both your sakes. Though under his breath he mumbled, Not enough discipline...that's the problem with children these days. Back inside the car Mum slumped into her seat looking downright miserable. As we drove away she didn't even sing the farmyard song to me or do her animal impersonations, which was very unlike her.

But if there's something Mum won't do, it's concede defeat. She was determined to do something about my poor eating...partly because she felt responsible, partly because she knew I wasn't exactly the picture of health. So she read and she researched and she read and she researched until veins began to bulge from her temples like tributaries about to break their banks. A week later she hit a brick wall, dragged herself from the indentation of the computer chair and went back to being her normal self. 

Weeks passed then months and my third birthday was fast approaching. Out of the blue one morning while munching on a morsel of mashed sultanas, I felt an angry growl erupt from within. It was monstrous. I started to panic. Mum, I whimpered. There's a growling in my tummy and it's getting awfully big and loud. 
It's just your body's way of telling you it's hungry, dear, exhaled mum listlessly.  She'd spent the night playing hide and seek with my dummy and was not in the mood for conversation.

But if the monster's hungry then shouldn't I feed it? I declared with urgency. I couldn't bare the thought of any monster, let alone one in my tummy losing its temper. Mum saw a light on the horizon and perked up, Bananas are famous rumble busters, Rohan. They'll settle even the biggest hunger. Supposing they don't, well there are plenty of other super foods we can try. Oats for one keep your tummy feeling full for longer but other foods like sweet potato and blueberries work miracles on hungry bodies.

Well, what are we waiting for?! I shouted. Gimme some! And as soon as I sunk my teeth into that soft, fleshy crescent moon of a fruit I knew I'd found a friend. You'll be happy to know that I now eat freely from each of the five food groups. My favourite fruit is kiwifruit. For protein I can't go past mum's beef meat balls and my vegetable weakness would have to be zucchini fritters.

Some time has passed and a lot has changed. Nowadays mum gets a bit of a thrill with each visit I make to the toilet. The doctor says my colour is good and my iron, calcium and vitamin levels are all better than average. Life is much more colourful now that I've graduated from the brown stuff. I've started playing soccer and have some great friends that I now get to share my lunch with at school. Best of all there have been no return visits from the tummy monster. I still keep a stash of sultanas under my pillow though. Old habits die hard I guess.