When I was pregnant with Kiera, I suddenly developed an aversion to all things fishy. I normally love shrimp, but while pregnant, I couldn't stand them. It was bizarre. I regained my taste for fish and seafood after the delivery.

Here's the applesauce story. When I was ten or thereabouts, my parents my macaroni and cheese one night, and my mother gave me a look of death and told me that if I couldn't come up with anything nice to say, I was not to say anything at all. Since I have always been a smart-ass, I said, "Fine. Ooooooh, my favorite kind of milk. Oh, yummy, the best kind of salt. Oh, and we're having applesauce with dinner...."

My mother was serving the applesauce into bowls, and as I said this, she'd just scooped up a big spoonful of it. And instead of putting it in the bowl, she dumped it on my head.

I stopped dead and then shrieked, "You put applesauce on my head!"

"Yes, I did!" my mother said. "Now eat your dinner!"

"But... but... but... I have applesauce on my head!"

My mother started giggling and dabbed at my head with the napkins. "You can go take a bath after dinner. You needed one anyway."

So I wiped the applesauce out of my hair (it had started dripping down the back of my neck) and ate dinner, much subdued. And -- here is the kind of stunning thing -- I never complained about the food again. I didn't always like dinner, and frequently picked at it if it wasn't something I cared for, but having provoked my mother into completely uncharacteristic behavior once, I was afraid of what might happen if I complained again.

Not that I'm suggesting this as a remedy or anything. But the applesauce did wash out, no harm done.