The farmers’ market was bustling, and I was short on time. Clutching my cash, I stood impatiently behind a woman who was taking an eternity to finalize her order. Her toddler, perched on her hip, pointed excitedly at a bunch of vibrant carrots. “I WANT IT!” he shouted, and with a beaming smile, she handed the carrots over to the sweaty teen at the stall. “MINE!” he cried again, this time eyeing some pink fingerling potatoes.
“How can you refuse?” she exclaimed, as the line behind her grew longer. “He’s just a little guy who wants his veggies!” My annoyance multiplied as she continued to indulge her child’s whims, and I felt a pang of recognition—once, I had shared her self-satisfied tone.
My two silly sons, aged 6 and 8, are known for their adventurous eating habits. When that book about sneaking spinach into brownies hit the shelves, I was shocked—my kids devour spinach like it’s candy. They relish broccoli, beans, squash, and even kale. One of them insists on his beets being served hot, but I try not to hold it against him.
And yes, I’ve reveled in the surprised looks from others. At our local Italian eatery, my six-year-old has a reputation for requesting extra spinach. During a vacation last spring at a fancy Japanese restaurant, the young server was floored when my kids ordered ikura sushi and tako—salmon eggs and octopus. “I didn’t try that until I was an adult!” she exclaimed, “And I’m Asian!”
The reactions I’ve encountered have led me to wonder if the state of childhood eating habits is really that dire. “You’re the first child to order the veal medallions with fennel and lemon butter sauce,” a waitress told me once, leaving me bewildered. After all, it’s just meat and potatoes!
For a while, I naively attributed my children’s culinary courage to my fantastic parenting skills. I believed it was my adventurous spirit, my relaxed attitude, or the fact that I always served a vegetable at dinner. I never offered chicken nuggets or boxed macaroni and cheese.
Oh, how wrong I was. It’s become clear that if my kids modeled their behavior on mine, you’d have to assume I also indulge in less-than-savory habits, like picking my nose. So, if my parenting prowess isn’t the secret sauce to their adventurous palates, then what is? Perhaps it’s a unique blend of birth order and personality: an easygoing older sibling, a younger brother eager to prove himself, and a dad who’s always seeking new flavors. At our table, it’s simply not cool to be picky.
An even more compelling theory is that their adventurous eating stems from when I tried to control their choices. As a nervous new mom, I adhered strictly to the rules. Baby’s first meal had to be precisely one tablespoon of rice cereal mixed with breast milk, and I fed it in tiny increments, anxiously awaiting any signs of allergies.
I’ve moved past that now, but my caution meant we never encouraged our boys to sample oysters and mussels (which my now-8-year-old loves) while in their high chairs. Instead, I insisted, “No! You can’t want that! You’re just a baby! You’ll choke! Have some more pureed mush from a jar.”
Living in New York City has exposed us to sushi in abundance. We always offered cooked dishes to our toddler—a little teriyaki chicken or avocado maki. But it didn’t take long for him to spot the raw delicacies on Daddy’s plate. He pointed eagerly at the mackerel sashimi, and of course, Daddy obliged.
It’s reverse psychology at its finest, though it’s only effective if you’re unaware you’re doing it. I found myself shyly asking the pediatrician if it was safe for toddlers to eat raw fish. Living in Manhattan, he casually replied that his kids devour sushi regularly.
As a result of my parenting missteps, I now enjoy mealtime without the usual struggles. However, there are downsides. When you have adventurous eaters, they may eventually turn their noses up at simpler fare. Remember all that sushi? For a period, my kids refused to eat cooked fish, which was frustrating because fish is healthy, and I’m certainly no sushi chef. Watching toddlers devour expensive restaurant sushi is adorable, but having two growing boys demolish it after a soccer match can be quite the pricey indulgence. And then there’s the snob factor—imagine your round-faced three-year-old looking up at a weary waitress at a diner and asking, “What are the specials?”
Sometimes, it’s just not as cute as it seems.
However, because I’ve had it relatively easy at the dinner table, I’ve gained some perspective. When one of my kids claims he doesn’t like something, I’ve learned to bite my tongue. It’s not that I possess incredible self-control; I honestly don’t care. If a child who enjoys rutabaga, salmon Provencal, split pea soup, and stuffed peppers suddenly decides he doesn’t like the capers in the pasta sauce, I’m hardly fazed.
I can’t provide a foolproof method for raising adventurous eaters since I realize I can’t take credit for the two I have. But I can share this insight: not stressing about whether or not your child eats their vegetables can be liberating.
So, I grant you permission, the next time you find yourself in a similar situation, to let it slide. Picture this: you’ve ordered Chinese because your three-year-old usually loves chicken and broccoli, but tonight he refuses to touch it. Close your eyes and envision that he typically eats like a gourmet chef. Pretend that just yesterday, he polished off fresh root vegetables with spicy hummus, miso soup with tofu, and bean shoots in sesame oil.
Take a break from caring. Hand your child that bag of peculiar fried noodles the restaurant threw in as an afterthought, and let him feast on those. As for the chicken and broccoli? Say, “More for me!” and pour yourself a glass of wine. Savor the moment of peace. Who knows—you might find that your silence creates a shift in the evening’s dynamics.
This article was originally published on August 2, 2011.
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Summary:
In this humorous reflection on motherhood, Linda Hollis shares her journey of parenting two adventurous eaters. Once an overconfident mom, she learned that her children’s culinary bravery stemmed from a mix of personality, birth order, and her own parenting missteps. Instead of stressing over mealtime battles, she encourages parents to embrace the chaos, let go of expectations, and enjoy the moments of peace.