And then she became a teenager…

Once upon a time I had a daughter (in fact, I still do), who grew up a great little eater. Home-made rhubarb muffins? Check. Chicken stew? Check. Lasagna? Check. At the age of three, she tried my glass of tomato juice, and then drank it. Compared to her brother who ate only white stuff (spaghetti with butter was the most adventurous meal he’d eat), she was a delight to feed.

And then she became a teenager. Every day she was a different “etarian”, “egan”, a “don’t eat that”, “don’t like that”, don’t want that” dismissive stranger at the dinner table. What to do? Make a separate meal for her? Kinda difficult when she was a vegetarian on Monday, but ate meat on Tuesday, when dairy was bad on Wednesday and  yogurt was an acceptable breakfast option only on Thursday.

I’ve always prided myself on putting a nutritious balanced meal on the table every night, so I took her rejection personally at first. I was more than frustrated with her attitude, and to be honest, equally as dismissive of her continually changing dietary preferences.

So I let her be. If she didn’t want to eat what was put on the table, then that was her problem. I let her and her picky brother know that I’m not a short order cook, and that if they wanted something different, they could cook it themselves.

Has this been the right approach? I have no idea! But my son can now make a mean grilled cheese, and right now, she’s eating just about anything I put in front of her – for now.