July/August 2003
Avoiding Food Fights
by John Rosemond
You can't make a child do anything. Obedience is always a choice. A child has a mind of his own. You can't make a 12-year-old do his homework, you can't make an 8-year-old pick up her toys, you can't make a 2-year-old use the potty, you can't make a 4-year-old go to sleep and you can't make a child of any age eat the food put on his or her plate.
My two children, Eric and Amy -- now adults -- taught me the "You Can't Make a Child Do Anything Principle." In fact, Eric was such a good teacher that by the time Amy came along, I already knew the parts about homework, toys, the potty and sleep. My delightfully strong-willed daughter taught me the part about food.
When Amy was three, she suddenly developed a psychological aversion to green things on her plate. If we put a green thing -- be it broccoli, bean or Brussels sprout -- on her plate, Amy would not only refuse to eat it, she would also go into hysterics at the very sight of it. Vegetables were not the issue. Color was the issue. She would eat carrots, beets, squash, even turnips. But not kohlrabi. This must, we assumed, have had something to do with either intrauterine trauma (green was somehow associated with nine months of floating in a dark, cramped place) or some bizarre genetic defect that hadn't shown itself during the first two years of Amy's life. It couldn't have had anything to do with her mother and me because we were perfect parents.
Willie and I have always believed children should learn to eat everything -- even sushi. Our parents had taught us that picky eating -- especially when one is a guest in someone else's home -- is rude, and we were determined to pass that fundamental truth on to our kids. Therefore, while we occasionally asked them what they would like to eat (for breakfast and in restaurants, mostly), we were loath to solicit their opinions concerning family meals. On those occasions, we planned the menu, prepared the food and put it on their plates. They were expected to eat it. But we never tried to make them eat it. This was not an issue with Eric because he's always been a human vacuum cleaner when it comes to food. He has -- to this day at least -- a remarkable ability to consume and consume and consume some more and remain thin.
Amy, on the other hand, was oppositely inclined. Amy could live on two crackers and a glass of water for several days. That wasn't a problem. Our policy was you eat what you want to eat. When you're done, you're done. The problem was the green-things thing.
"Aaahhhh! It's green! Get it off my plate!!" Amy would scream when a green thing was put on her plate.
Her mother and I were steadfast in our refusal to cater to her neurosis about the color green. On one such occasion, Amy became so enraged at our refusal to exclude certain foods from her plate that she threw herself backward so violently that her chair tipped over. Out she tumbled -- a double back somersault, if I recall correctly. Unhurt and unfazed, she continued screaming about the green thing until we sent her to her room, where she promptly fell asleep and stayed asleep until the next morning.
| Don't try to coerce, bribe or talk a child into eating something he says he doesn't like. It is impossible to reason with the unreasonable, and again, the more talking parents do, the more the child's resolve strengthens. |
We remained firm, but so did Amy. She would not -- could not -- eat a green thing. No amount of coaxing, bribing or threatening would break her resolve. It took Willie and me two years, but we finally outfoxed her. One night, Amy came to dinner and there was a green thing on her plate -- one spoonful, to be exact. There was also one spoonful each of two of her favorite foods -- roast beast and mashed potatoes. Before her protests began, we informed her of the first of two new rules: She didn't have to eat the green thing, but she couldn't have seconds of anything until she ate everything on her plate.
Mind you, her plate held only three spoonfuls of food. If she ate the beast and the potatoes, she'd still be hungry. Not starved, but hungry enough for seconds of one or both. We knew, however, that Amy would not give in easily. She'd eat the meat and potatoes and just sit there, arms folded across her tiny chest, a scowl on her tiny face. Therefore, the second rule: When the evening meal is over, anything you leave on your plate will be covered. Later, when you are hungry and ask for a snack, your food will be reheated and put back in front of you. When you eat it, you can have your choice of snack.
The first few nights, Amy ate what she wanted to eat (one spoonful of each acceptable item) and left the green thing to rot on her plate. Sure enough, she asked for a snack later. The green thing was reheated and put in front of her. She refused even to smell it and went to bed "hungry" but by no means in danger of malnourishment. On the fourth night of the new program, she ate her meat, she ate her starch and then -- she actually ate a green bean -- the only one on her plate. As she ate it she made a dramatic display of choking and gagging, but this one solitary bean managed to slip down her gullet anyway. Immediately, she asked for more meat and starch and promptly gobbled them down. Breakthrough!
For the next several months, she ate green things only to get seconds of brown, white, red, yellow and purple things. Then she began asking for seconds of -- what's this? -- green things! Not all green things, mind you, but she began eating peas and broccoli (steamed only) and celery. Slowly, but surely, her taste for green things expanded until it encompassed nearly every green edible thing on the planet. When she was 10 years old, Amy accompanied us to a sushi restaurant and ate raw fish on rice wrapped with green seaweed. She absolutely loved it.
Think of it: We never forced Amy to eat green things. After years of trying to make her and failing, we realized all we could do was set up reasonable rules and let her grapple with whether it was better to refuse green things and go hungry or force them down and leave the table fat and happy. In the end, she did the sensible thing. After all, children may be foolish, but they aren't stupid.
For parents of children who will not eat what is put in front of them, I have the following kernels of advice:
· Do not make a child's dislike of certain foods a topic of dinner conversation. The more attention paid the issue, the worse it's going to get.
· It's generally OK to cater to food neuroses at breakfast and lunch, but not at the evening meal or any other special meal. On those occasions, present the child in question with a plate on which sits a sample of each of the foods prepared. This says, in effect, "You are not a privileged member of this family; therefore, you don't get a specially prepared plate."
· Don't try to coerce, bribe or talk a child into eating something he says he doesn't like. It is impossible to reason with the unreasonable, and again, the more talking parents do, the more the child's resolve strengthens.
· Don't worry that a picky eater isn't "getting enough to eat." A child who "doesn't eat anything" is always eating something, after all. Peanut butter on crackers, American cheese on white bread, perhaps, but something. Believe it or not, these children make it to adulthood, at which time they get married, become parents and have children who "won't eat anything." Payback time.
· Don't require a child to sit at the table until he finishes everything on his plate. This only invites a power struggle that parents will lose. Besides, young children are remarkably adept at passing food under the table to the family pet.
· Present the young food neurotic with small portions, then cover and save whatever she refuses to eat. When she asks for a snack later (almost inevitable), simply reheat her dinner and put it back in front of her. If she eats, fine. She gets a snack. If not, fine, but no snack.
· To the child who cries piteously at this turn of events, say, "It could be worse. I could be feeding you haggis."
John Rosemond is a popular speaker and the author of numerous books on child rearing and family life. His website is www.rosemond.com.