Once when I had a 1 year old and a 2 year old, we had some friends over for dinner. They had a 1 year old and a 3 year old. So I was conscience of the fact that I was feeding 4 toddlers. And wanted to make sure I served something “kid-friendly.” So we had pasta with marinara sauce (big pieces they could pick up with their fingers), salad, and bread. I figured that was the safest thing possible. So when they got here and I was serving dinner, I was a bit taken aback when they said, “Oh our kids won’t eat that. Do you have any chicken nuggets?”
Now don’t get me wrong. Toddlers are crazy funny eaters. And maybe it was just a phase this kid was going through or whatever. Who knows. But all I could say back was, “Really? You fix him chicken nuggets every night?” To which they shrugged and said, “Yes. It’s all he will eat.”
I am not judging these parents by any stretch of the imagination. Ever since I became a parent, it takes a lot to make me want to criticize others. But I was thinking in my head how crazy they were to do this to themselves. To go to the trouble of fixing a separate dinner each night for their kids. Call me lazy. But one dinner is plenty for me to be cooking. No way do I make exceptions. If my kids don’t like what’s served, they don’t have to eat. But they’re nuts if they think I will make them something else.
I don’t feel bad about this at all because they get plenty of choices during the day. Breakfast is totally their choice. Lunch I usually give them a couple of items to choose from – they still say what goes on their plates. Snack is again their choice. They get one dessert a day (usually after lunch) and that’s their choice too. But dinner is my choice. Or Husband’s, if he’s the one cooking. There are no substitutions for dinner in our house. You eat what’s on the table or you sit quietly while the rest of us do and just wait for breakfast tomorrow. My kids have certainly had their turns skipping dinner. Mostly it was because they were cranky and stubborn. But occasionally it was because they just genuinely couldn’t eat whatever it was we were having.
My kids are typical kids. They reject new foods almost always. But 75% of the time, they come around if offered the food again and again. A classic example of this is a pasta dish I make with chicken and seasonings and ‘icky-looking’ things like artichoke hearts and olives…GASP. The first time I made this the kids yucked it up at the table. I said, “You have to take one bite to try it. That’s the rule. If you don’t like it, there’s salad and bread.” They took their bites, made appropriate gagging sounds, and then settled for salad and bread. The second time we had that for dinner – same thing. By the third time, they could see that this was officially on the menu. That maybe they’d want to think about giving it another go. So a few more bites were had. With big sighs. Because it was painful for them. By the 5th time, they were eating their small bowl-full. No rave reviews, but not giant moans either. By the 8th time, they were gobbling it up and asking for seconds. And it’s a favorite dinner in our house today. And don’t think I don’t throw this story up in their faces every chance I get. Every time they scoff at something new. I say, “Remember the Italian chicken salad? You hated that too! Once upon a time…” And they roll their eyes and take a try. Because otherwise I might go on and on and on.
I think there’s something to be learned by them for sitting through a dinner hungry. Because Lord knows we do that as adults all the time. We go to someone’s house and feel yucked out. Or we sit at some work luncheon or wedding reception or whatever and are starving but feel we can’t eat what’s in front of us. Kids need to learn that it happens. And they have to deal with it.
But they also need to learn that the world doesn’t stop because they aren’t happy. I think of my friends with the chicken-nugget-only-eating-kid. He’s certainly what you would call a “picky eater.” And when I really really think about it, my youngest would probably be considered a picky eater too. His list of foods he doesn’t like is certainly way longer than his brothers’ lists. And he eats bread for dinner more nights than they do too.
But I think the reason it never occurs to me to call him a picky eater is because I think of that kind of a kid as being like my friends’ kid. The kind who requires his own dinner. His crusts cut off, his fruit separated, his own special plate of chicken nuggets. My 4 year old could easily be that kid. Only don’t tell him. Because in our house he doesn’t know it’s an option. He eats his bread, picks out his olives, and goes on with life. Because what else can he do?
And I’m glad. I hate to cook. And I refuse to battle with my kids over food period. The last thing I want to do after cooking is to sit down and beg them to eat it. At that point I’m starving and I just want to eat it myself. And have them leave me alone so I can.
So since I don’t really care if they like it or not or if they eat it or not…I’m quite thankful that they usually do eat it.
Eventually.
