When I believed that making a dish of edible circles would persuade my picky kid to accept a bite of food, I realized that I had somewhat lost my way.
I only requested a mouthful of “genuine food,” nothing more. That should just be one mouthful, please. That was how low my standards had gotten. My 12-month-old had only ever taken milk, pureed pouches, or sweetened dairy with any type of gusto up until this point.
In essence, his diet had evolved into a list of all the foods I vowed, up until the birth of my child, to never feed my child. Back then, dinner was a pouch (OK, you’re judging me, I’m judging you), lunch was a pouch (for shame! ), and breakfast was a sweet yogurt. That was flushed away.
a splash mat covered in my failed attempts at home-cooked nutrition, milk as a second meal, and. I was making both my spouse and myself crazy.
I had the impression that I was pursuing my youngster with a spoon around the house in search of the elusive bite. I had turned into a little bit of an obsession. Similar to how Ms. Trunchbull in “Matilda” has Bruce consume the entire chocolate cake. This is probably not even an absurd simile as I even had her greasy, mom bun. After months of trying, all I wanted was a decent bite.
