Getting them to Eat Right

One of the most challenging things about raising a child can be what they put into their mouths.
Obviously, when they're babies, we don't want them putting things like flowers, dirt, window cleaner, laundry  detergent or other non-food items in their little cakeholes.  And we're pretty vigilant about it.
As they grow, they learn about how good food can taste.
And how it compares with other food items.
Our three-year-old daughter is all too well familiar with this.
And how to work it.
"My belly's all filled up", she says, often after only a couple of bites from her meal.
But then she'll say she wants a snack less than a half hour later.
"Hungwy" she says in her little voice.
My wife I would never feed our daughter anything that we wouldn't eat ourselves.  We made this a solemn vow to her.
Having grown up in a somewhat "economically challenged" household in the 70s and 80s, I had to suffer through the occasional dinner fare of liver, squash, zucchini and eggplant, despite my mother's best culinary efforts to disguise it.
I had no problem with spaghetti or grilled cheese with the key ingredient from a food bank.
But I particularly hated liver.  It was the most disgusting meal on the planet.  I would have preferred to go to bed hungry, but that was an option I was not afforded.
My dad feighned surprise when he learned after I was an adult, how much I hated it?
"Really?" he'd say.  "I like it...it's good."
Uh, Dad...not once did I ever see you at the dinner table when liver was served.  You conveniently had someplace else to be that night.  Probably in the parking lot of McDonald's, laughing it up.
Margie plans the meals in our house, with the exception of three days out of the week.  Either I bring it home, I take the family out, or I put the apron on.  Whatever the case, it's my worry.
But when I do cook, I do try to follow my wife's example and keep things as healthy as possible.
We very rarely eat red meat anymore.  Most of our dishes are chicken-based, breads are either wheat or whole-grain, milk is lowfat, pasta is wholegrain when we can get it, and we buy veggies from farmers' markets.
If I get overly creative in the kitchen, where I want to make more adult dishes like coq au vin, beef stroganoff, or shrimp fettucine alfredo (my wife's favorite), I'll defer to my daughter and prepare her a hot dog or some chicken nuggets.
But despite our best efforts, our daughter affords little room in her belly for the good stuff, but for treats and sweeter stuff like yogurt, applesauce, or cheese or breads.  Though we sometimes succeed in getting her to try new things, she will occasionally decide to spit out onto her plate what she ate without a problem just a few days ago, and proclaim "I don't like it."
"You ate it fine last week."
Doesn't matter.
But lately, we've been cracking down.
What she has in front of her is what she gets for dinner, period.
And sometimes she needs her fork reloaded after each bite to remind her she's not done.
It often takes time, but eventually it gets done.
Most of the time, it's outside distractions that hamper her eating habits.
Those often result in time-outs or her spending her meal strapped in her baby booster seat, which she's come to hate.
And it has been getting better.
She's come to realize the family kitchen is not an open-all-night restaurant, and that "hungwy" uttered right before bedtime has been formally recognized as a Savannah Stall Tactic.
Never in a million years did I ever realize what an effort staying ahead of your child is.
And that it never seems to cease.


NEXT WEEK:  Remembering RIF