I'm doing my damnedest to not do that to the girls. Of all the foods I hated as I child I now eat almost all of them, except peas. Peas are seriously the most vile things on the planet. They stink and they taste like mud. Eating a pea is akin to popping a bubble filled with mushy sewage.
Hubby likens me to The Princess and the Pea, except that I can tell that there is one pea in an entire dish of shepherd's pie. Or that the samosas do indeed come with peas without even opening one. Okay, the last one is generally a given. But the foul odour of peas is distinct and I can pick it up despite pastry or potato coverings.
As I said, though, I am trying not to pass on that dislike to the girls. I plug my nose when I defrost the frozen peas, scrub my hands with smelly soaps when we go pea picking, and make Hubby feed Smilosaurus dinner if peas are on the menu. So far I've been successful, both girls love peas. The Monster will eat them fresh or frozen, raw or cooked. And Smilosaurus practices her pincer grasp at least once a week with a bowl full of peas. Good for them.
But they better not ask me to make split pea soup, ever.