I’m currently in the middle of a WAR. One that involves twice-daily battles that pit two strong wills against each other in what sometimes seems like a fight for supremacy.
Sometimes I win one of these battles, other times I’m starkly defeated. I’m not quite sure who’s winning the overall war, but have a sneaking suspicion it’s not me.
The fact that I’m battling a toddler doesn’t really come into it. I’m convinced my son was born with a stubborn streak years ahead of his actual biological age.
My husband helpfully points out that he’s inherited that particular personality trait from me. And while I’m quietly chuffed that I’ve made some impact in the genetic lottery (Ollie is the spitting image of his dad to the point where I’ve sometimes wondered whether my egg had any involvement in conception at all), I wish we could shelve the willful streak during meal times.
Is there anything as demoralising as spending time lovingly preparing nutritious, tasty food where anything that could be seen as slightly toddler unfriendly is carefully minimised or indeed hidden, only to have it literally hurled onto the floor in a fit of anger not seen in this household since Caitlin Stark was killed off in Game of Thrones?
Ollie employs a method I like to term the ‘clean sweep’ where he eyes off whatever it is I’ve put on the highchair tray, uses a pinky finger to prod warily then grandly sweeps the entire thing off his tray and onto the floor.
This is usually followed by a shriek of victory and what he deems a winning grin.
It seems this behaviour isn’t unusual in the slightest. Upon venting my spleen on Facebook, I quickly learnt that things could be much, much worse. At least Ollie eats everything offered at breakfast (touch wood), it’s just lunch and dinner that cause me to remind myself that he’s ‘just a toddler who doesn’t know what he’s doing.’
I always grandly proclaimed, before having kids, that I’d be upfront with my feeding and that I’d never disguise or hide certain things in other certain things. I was also certain I would never bribe my child to eat or give him something completely different to what we’d be eating.
Just like not using dummies or formula and never buying cheap, plastic toys, those ‘rules’ have quickly fallen by the wayside. Ollie isn’t quite old enough for bribery yet but hiding my carefully prepared stews, fritters and bakes between two slices of rye bread and calling it a toastie, works an absolute treat.
Case in point: today’s lunch. After presenting freshly made zucchini fritters (packed with all the kid’s favourite veggies and a whole heap of cheese), I was treated to a clean sweep of epic proportions, followed by a shriek and fist pump that hinted at pure delight.
I tried topping the fritters with avocado and yoghurt spread. This was a no-go (accompanied by a ‘I know what you’re trying to do’ glare).
Final stop: sandwiching a fritter between the last remaining pieces of bread in the house, slapping on some extra avocado and grating in some cheese. Five minutes later, I had a delighted child happily chowing down on his toasted sandwich.
It may not be ideal and I’m going to continue offering the foods I prepare and that which hubby and I are eating, but for today I’m calling it a win!
