Plenty of food for thought for parents
AS PARENTS YOU JUST DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO IN ORDER TO GET SOME SORT OF SUSTENANCE INTO THEIR (YOUR KIDS’) MEALS.
At what age do children realise that sleep and food are two of the simplest joys in life?
Actually, the question probably should be at what age do they remember how great eating yourself into a food coma is. Because my four-month-old Bonnie has it all worked out — eat, sleep, rave, repeat.
But getting three-year-old Eden to eat anything that isn’t dessert for breakfast or getting her to sleep without a 12-step routine is seemingly where all of our time and mental energy is being spent at the moment.
It is not to say that Eden has a particularly poor relationship with food for a toddler.
The issue is — like most things in our house — that it is her way or the highway.
She went through an extended phase where every meal — whether it was breakfast, lunch or dinner — had to be accompanied by baby cucumbers and cherry tomatoes.
I’m not quite sure at what point she decided specifically those two foods went with everything else on the menu, but at least she was eating something.
Occasionally she will go on a run of wanting smoothies for breakfast.
Mind you, it always seems to be when she is also in the middle of a stretch of pre7 am wake-ups which would cause the sound of the blender to wake up the entire neighbourhood as well as the small baby and tired mother in our house.
So last week, I pivoted — we decided to bake cupcakes before sunrise instead of blitzing yoghurt, milk and frozen berries like a techno remix of a rooster crowing.
We’ll skirt around the fact that I had to shift a packet cupcake mix in the cupboard to grab the ingredients I needed to make them from scratch, because it was early and I wasn’t paying attention.
But maybe that is the reason that Eden took one bite of them and decided she actually wanted bread for breakfast instead.
Not toast though. That would be ‘dirty’, according to Miss Three.
My cooking is another bugbear of hers.
For a while there the only excuse she used for not wanting to eat something was ‘Dad made it’. But as parents you just do what you have to do in order to get some sort of sustenance into their meals.
This week the chicken we made had rosemary and thyme on it — blasphemy, according to Eden.
I tried to pretend it was pepper, but she insisted that would make her ‘blashuu’.
So there I was, a grown man rolling bits of chicken between the palms of my hand to rid it of herbs so my toddler would eat it.
Life certainly is always interesting around here.