When A. was a toddler she refused to eat eggs. We tried them in all shapes and forms: soft boiled, hard boiled, scrambled, fried. No, she wouldn’t eat them.
So alright, we gave up.
Until we discovered one day that she had eaten a hard boiled egg at the neighbour’s and enjoyed it. From then on she would eat our eggs too, but only if we told her that P. had especially gone out to the neighbour, who had especially boiled an egg for her. A “Gees egg”, we called it, after the neighbour.
Unbeknown to her, we have been borrowing her special eggs for years.
And in our house a hard boiled egg is still called a “Gees egg”.