My son's classmates were making hard decisions among piles of dishes, when my 3-year-old grabbed a piece of watermelon and came back smiling. It was his first bright smile in the "temple fair" that the kindergarten held before the long holiday.

Like real temple fairs, this one featured toys, antithetical couplets, dough figurines, even puzzles written on paper lanterns. But my son didn't enjoy really the crowd.

Finally, the children settled down in the classroom, waiting for the first buffet of their life. There were nearly 30 children and 10 teachers from two classes. The heavily dressed and sweating parents stood behind the juniors, surveying the food displayed in the center.

In most Chinese families, feeding a young child is serious business. The parents take great trouble preparing nutritious delicacies for their only child. But junior usually dodges or upsets the spoon with surprising cunning.

Famous food columnist Shen Hongfei once compared feeding the child to mid-air refueling of fighter jets: "One side balances the spoon and tries to talk sense into the other who is running and jumping. In this constant movement, a win-win situation is achieved if a comparatively stable junction is maintained between the end of the spoon and the lightly opened tiny mouth."

I always suspect that my son's reluctance for the average food - well, except for chocolates and cakes - stems from his passive involvement in this feeding ritual. At the buffet, however, the children were given freedom of choice, and they displayed a strong will.

"Now is the time to eat, but you must finish what you pick," a senior teacher announced. All the children rushed to the central desks, upsetting a few chairs in the chaos. There were breads, meat balls, potato chips, skewed kebabs, boiled vegetables and fruit salad.

"Pick a meat ball! And some cauliflower!" shouted an eager mother. But the neatly dressed girl brought back a plateful of steamed stuffed bun and sausage.

My son didn't seem to be washed away by this excitement. He picked seeds out of the melon one by one. When my son finally finished it, his neighbor, a nice-looking girl, was downing the third plate.

To my dismay, my son came back triumphantly with another piece of watermelon. "Don't you want something hot?" "I like watermelon!" he replied.

Watermelon has a mysterious attraction for my boy. On his first birthday, he gulped down several slices of melon and that night, we had to send him to the hospital for fever. The fruit tastes the best while cold, but some doctors say it generates "internal fire" in the body. We have been careful not to let him eat too much watermelon.

The teachers began sending shrimp to the picky diners. I helped my son shell the shrimp. He smelled it, shuddered, and pushed it back. He has never likes a shrimp.

While I chewed on the shrimp like other parents who were finishing off the meal, my son was making a last round, reaching for yet another piece of watermelon.

(China Daily 02/19/2008 page20)