When I was 5 or 6 years old (near the beginning of time itself), my parents took me and my brother out to get a snack. I heard my parents ordering chocolate eclairs and I freaked out. Something in my head told me that anything called an "eclair" must be really horrid. I started a rant about how I hated chocolate eclairs before I actually had a clue as to what they were. When I saw my parents and my brother scarfing down these wondeful treats I was to embarrassed to admit my error, so I had to continue my false dislike of eclairs. It was several years before I swallowed my pride (and a few eclairs). I hate that I missed out on them for all that time.
Yes, but I don't want to go into details this early in the morning other than to link to the classic Carl Rose / E.B. White New Yorker cartoon which I think captures brilliantly the tendency of well-meaning parents to foist adult culinary experiences on children who aren't old enough to appreciate them.