Well, as you'll see by some of the stories in this section, meals were always exciting at our house. Two of my experiences were actually traumatic! The first will be hard for me to relay because it dredges up such terrifying thoughts.
I do not like fish of ANY kind. Never did, never will. Being raised in a good Catholic family, we had fish every Friday for dinner. Oh how I hated Friday dinner. My Mom never was able to get over the fact that I didn't like fish or sea food and she could just LIVE on it. She was always pushing me try try some, especially that ugly, bug looking, little pink (after cooking) thing known as a shrimp. I didn't like the way they looked before cooking, and I didn't like the way they looked after cooking.
But one day, my resourceful mother decided to play a little trick on me. My favorite sandwich for lunch was Bologna. There was nothing like it... a good old white bread with mayo and bologna sandwich. So there we sat, at our little "kids" table for lunch (we had company that day), and here came my sandwich! I picked it up and took a big bite and started to check. It was a little lumpier than usual... had a little different taste than usual, but hey... my Mom made it... nothing could be wrong with it. Until I went to take another bite. There it was... among the beautiful pink bologna... a lump that was also pink. I put down the sandwich (while still chewing the first bite) and slowly removed the top piece of bread and there it was... my very own mother had sabotaged my sandwich with shrimp!!! And now, as I look up the entire "grownups" table is looking at me and smiling!! It was a plot!! They MADE me eat a shrimp, or at least a piece of shrimp. 
Up to the garbage I went trying to spit out EVERY LITTLE bit, but alas... I had swallowed some. It was a dark day... I just stood there in tears. Could she really have done this to me. That's the last I remember... everything after that is just a blur, but to this day... I always check under the top piece of bread... even if I make the sandwich!
But now... I feel like I got a little bit of revenge in life. I'm not sure how long after the bologna incident. But the story goes like this...
When you were at the table, you HAD to eat some of everything. There were no excuses, you ate or you sat until you did eat. Let me tell you... there are many creative ways to make it look like you've eaten a little of something, but that's another story. My problem was Creamed Corn. I still can't eat it. I love canned corn, corn on the cob, corn bread, just not creamed corn. And there it was... on my plate again. I said "I'm not going to eat it".. they said "then you'll sit there until you do!" I said "If you make me eat that I'll throw up". They said "Tough... you will eat some." After quite a long time, I was reminded again that I must eat some and I reminded them again that if they made me eat it, they would be sorry. Needless to say... they made me eat some and I was glad to keep my part of the bargin... all over the table. To this day, they never made me eat creamed corn again!
Now to me... that was a little bit of payback for the shrimp.