About four years ago, my great friend Fran came for dinner with her two children. At the time they were quite young and I had only one child, Isis, who was about 1. I can't remember what we ate but there were definitely green things on the plates. Isis, being tiny, nibbled whatever was put in front of her. Fran's older toddlers were much more fussy - oh how smug I was.

Fran, being of the more traditional; Victorian stiff upper lip, kids should be seen and not heard parenting school, was badgering them somewhat to eat their greens and I think I may have berated her a bit.

My first mistake was: Never interfere or advise a parent about how they rear their children. They really don't like this. None of us have any idea what we are doing (at least I don't and convince myself nobody else does, just to make myself feel better) so being told what to do by somebody else just makes you mad. I really should have kept my big gob out of it. My other mistake was feeling so smug.

I was convinced back then that because I was such a lovely, laid back and personable chap, all I had to do was keep the tasty nosh coming and my little one would eat well and never be fussy. No forcing, coercing or threatening. Just serve up the food and let her choose what she wanted - I was convinced she would make the right choice.

She did make the right choice of course - she chose not to eat any vegetables.

She's now a pretty fussy eater. My plan seems to have failed.

Worse than this, at the time Fran explained that my methods wouldn't work and that - paraphrasing - I was a foolish hippy who would end up eating his own words.

I'll show her I thought. I made a bet with her then, that by the age of 5, Isis would eat anything and everything I put in front of her, would use her knife and fork properly, sit well at dinner and chat away like the cutest bunny on the planet.

By the age of 5.

Today is Isis's fifth birthday.

Today for dinner I had to eat a side order of humble pie.

And of course I have to contact Fran and admit my defeat.

I'll stick with the plan though - in the words of Ned Flander's Mom: "Yeah. You gotta help us, Doc. We've tried nothin' and we're all out of ideas."

Happy Birthday Isis.