Dinner used to feel like a scene from a horror movie in my house. After a long day, when my patience was hanging on by a thread, it was time for the evening meal. My son, a tiny tornado of resistance, transformed into a culinary combatant the moment the dinner plates hit the table. Breakfast and lunch? Easy as pie. But when it came to dinner, it was a relentless struggle.
Every single bite had to be diligently chewed into an unrecognizable mush, often lasting upwards of 10 minutes. During that time, I found myself in a constant state of pleading—”Swallow it! Empty your mouth!”—as my stress levels skyrocketed. Why do families put themselves through this nightly ritual?
Sitting together for dinner became my least favorite part of the day. I even considered installing a small flap in his bedroom door to slide his food through, allowing me to enjoy my meal in peace, sans the blood pressure spikes.
We tried all the tricks in the book. Timers only added to his anxiety, making him fret about the clock instead of focusing on the food. Threatening to withhold dessert if he didn’t finish his meal just ended in epic meltdowns. Cooking a separate meal that I knew he’d eat? Total fail.
After countless frustrating evenings, I finally had an epiphany: my son was just as drained as I was. We both needed a breakthrough because the supposed family bonding time was anything but pleasant.
So, I decided to toss my traditional rules out the window and make dinnertime more enjoyable. For breakfast and lunch, I filled him up with healthy goodies and celebrated as he polished off his plate. Come dinner, I served him smaller portions of the same foods the rest of us were having. If he wanted more, he could ask.
But here’s the kicker: I put dessert on the table too. I told him he could eat it whenever he wanted—even first! I explained that dinner portions were lighter than usual, and if he finished, he could request extra. I made it clear that once dinner was over, that was it. No lingering at the table for ages.
Predictably, he dove into dessert first. Initially, he looked around as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, thinking I’d snatch it away. But I reassured him it was fine and gently encouraged him to try more of the meal.
To my surprise, he did! He cleaned his plate without any fuss. He didn’t ask for extra vegetables, but he did reach for more food when he was through. By the time the rest of us finished, so had he. No tears, no tantrums—just a quick and pleasant meal, a true game changer.
Reflecting on my own childhood, I realized that dinnertime had been a struggle for my parents too. I was a picky eater and often played with my food rather than eating it. Forcing me to consume what I didn’t want never worked; it only made me dread mealtimes. Dinner was a chore, not a moment to cherish with family.
Letting my son eat dessert first eliminated his anxiety about finishing his meal for a reward. He felt empowered to make his own food choices, which reduced our daily standoffs. I finally understood that his prolonged chewing was a stalling tactic—I wish I’d realized that sooner. It would have saved us all a lot of grief.
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In summary, allowing my son to enjoy dessert first transformed our mealtime experience. It reduced stress, encouraged better eating habits, and made dinner a pleasant family gathering rather than a battlefield.