The farmers’ market was bustling, and I was feeling the pressure. With cash in hand, I only needed to pay for my dozen organic free-range eggs, but a woman in front of me was taking her sweet time, adding item after item to her order.
“Mommy, I WANT IT!” her toddler shouted, pointing at the vibrant carrots. She beamed like a celebrity, handing them over to the sweaty teen at the stall. “MINE!” the little guy insisted again, this time eyeing some pink fingerling potatoes. “How can you say no to a toddler who wants his veggies?” she proclaimed, as the line behind her continued to grow. My annoyance only deepened; not only was I short on time, but her self-satisfied tone made me cringe.
I must confess, I used to share that same smug attitude. I have two silly sons, ages 6 and 8, who have always been adventurous eaters. When the book about hiding spinach in brownies was published, I was taken aback—my kids gobble up spinach, whether raw or cooked. They devour broccoli, beans, squash, and kale. One of them even insists on his beets being served hot, rather than cold. I try not to hold it against him.
Yes, I’ve reveled in the astonishment of others. At our local Italian restaurant, my youngest is known as “the kid who wants extra spinach.” On a trip to an upscale Japanese restaurant, our server was shocked when my children 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!”
These reactions make me wonder if there’s a crisis of picky eaters out there. A waitress recently told us, “You’re the first kid to order veal medallions in fennel and lemon butter sauce,” to which I could only respond, “Really?” It’s just meat and potatoes!
For a while, I naively took credit for their culinary courage. I thought it was my adventurous spirit, my relaxed approach, or the fact that I always served a vegetable at dinner. I believed it was because I had never offered chicken fingers or boxed macaroni and cheese at home. What a joke!
I’ve come to realize how misguided that line of thinking was. If their behavior mirrored mine, then surely you’d assume I also pick my nose and use my shirt as a napkin.
So if my parenting isn’t the reason for their adventurous palates, what is? It might just be a mix of factors: an easygoing older sibling, a younger brother eager to prove himself, and a dad who loves trying new foods. In our household, being picky isn’t cool.
Another theory is that their adventurous eating emerged partly because I initially discouraged it. As a new mom, I followed the guidelines to the letter. Baby’s first meal should be precisely one tablespoon of rice cereal mixed with breast milk—just a tiny bit at a time, while I anxiously awaited any allergic reactions.
I’ve moved past that now, but my caution meant we never encouraged our boys to try oysters or mussels (which my now 8-year-old loves) when they were in their high chair. Instead, I thought, “No way! You can’t want that! You’re just a baby! You’ll choke! Have some more pureed mush from a jar.”
Living in a city with a vibrant food culture, we often enjoy sushi. We’d place cooked dishes in front of our toddler—like teriyaki chicken or avocado rolls. But it didn’t take long for him to notice that Dad’s chopsticks had something more interesting. He pointed at the mackerel sashimi, and Dad obliged.
It’s reverse psychology at its finest. I even found myself sheepishly asking our pediatrician if toddlers could eat raw fish. He shrugged and said his kids had sushi all the time.
Thanks to some parental missteps, I’ve avoided mealtime battles. But there are downsides. If your kids have gourmet tastes, they may eventually turn their noses up at ordinary food. After all that sushi, my kids went through a phase where they refused to eat cooked fish, which was painful since fish is so healthy, and I’m no sushi chef. Watching toddlers devour pricey restaurant sushi is cute; seeing two school-aged boys inhale it after a soccer game is a financial strain. And the snob factor? Imagine your round-faced three-year-old asking a harried waitress at a diner, “What are the specials?” It can be quite a scene.
Yet, because I’ve had a relatively easy experience at the dinner table, I see things from a different perspective. When one of my boys claims he doesn’t like something, I keep my mouth shut. It’s not that I possess extraordinary restraint; I simply don’t care. If a child who eats rutabaga, salmon Provencal, split pea soup, and stuffed peppers tells me he doesn’t like the capers in the pasta sauce, I’m far from fazed.
I can’t tell you how to create adventurous eaters since I don’t deserve credit for mine. But I can share that not stressing about vegetables is a great relief.
So, the next time you find yourself in a similar situation—like ordering Chinese food when your three-year-old hasn’t touched anything green in weeks, yet refuses to eat the chicken and broccoli—take a moment. Close your eyes and envision him as a gourmet chef in disguise. Pretend he polished off fresh root vegetables with spicy hummus and miso soup just yesterday.
Give yourself permission to relax. Hand your child that bag of odd fried noodles the restaurant included as an afterthought and let him enjoy those. As for the chicken and broccoli? Just say, “More for me!” and pour yourself a glass of wine. Enjoy the peace. Who knows? Your silence might just change the mealtime dynamic.
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In summary, embracing a relaxed attitude toward your child’s eating habits can lead to a more enjoyable mealtime experience. While the journey to adventurous eating may not be straightforward, allowing space for preferences, interests, and individuality can foster a positive environment.