I am seriously afraid that my children were switched at birth. The boys that live in my house and call me “mama” are not mine, but strangers. Tonight as we started eating dinner, my two year old stated matter-of-factly, “I really like spinach.” As he gulped his down, I decided to test my 11 month old and plopped some spinach onto his tray. It disappeared into his mouth and he went on to devour the rest of what I had made. Who are these children? My earliest childhood memory is of watching my older sister run out to the ice cream truck while I am stuck at the dinner table until I finish my dreaded portion of spinach. To this day I only eat it because I know that it is good for me and excepting turnip greens and kale (close relatives of spinach) it remains my least favorite vegetable. So, tonight somewhere there are two boys who when served spinach by their well-intentioned mother, turn up their noses and protest. And in exchange I have two spinach lovers that look just like me, but obviously could not be mine.