She's Eating Broccoli. She's eat... ooh! She's eating broccola-ah-ie!
All three of my kids love broccoli.
I imagine many things pop into people’s minds upon hearing that statement. “&@$%er” is one of them, although if anyone thinks I’m a perfect parent, I assure you my kitchen floor hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. And, yes, I still allow them to eat things that fall on it.
“How did you do it?” might be another thing that pops up. I offered it to them. They ate it. They seem to like it, and they haven’t figured out otherwise yet. It probably helps that I eat a big plateful of it every night for dinner; the surest way to encourage a child to eat something is to give them the idea that you want to eat it first.
“That must be nice” would be the other words I imagine, to which I respond, “you’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
When I sit down to my broccoli, I sit on the couch so all three children can share in my plate. Eating vegetables is a good habit that I want to encourage, especially since it’s just a matter of time before they discover I’m hiding nasty squash in their macaroni and cheese. All three children walk or toddle up to me when I call them, and each one has found their unique way to be a pain in the butt while we eat.
Abbie was my first broccoli eater, and is now the most experienced. She’s progressed to the point where she can pluck it off the plate with a fork. Not that she does; she’d rather use her fingers. That’s fine with me, but she insists on grabbing my fork while eating, possibly to feel like a big girl, maybe to intercept the floret en route to my mouth, but most likely to sabotage our eating to leave more broccoli for her. I can compensate for her thievery by bringing an extra fork, but she tends to steal both forks, though I can re-steal the one she’s currently not using.
I’ve learned to deal with Abbie. I keep the plate where she can reach it, and steal forks back as necessary. I need to be careful of how low I hold the plate because Tory is always hovering nearby. My preferred method of feeding the boys is to fork-feed them one piece at a time as they wait patiently at my side. Their preferred method of feeding themselves is to grab an airway-blockingly large handful of broccoli and shove it in their mouths. Both boys will do this, but Tory is especially gleeful in his grabbing. If I leave the plate dangling too low, just low enough for his to reach, he will pull it to the ground, dumping its contents on the floor. That’s good news for the dog who’s learned to hover nearby during mealtime, but not so good for the rest of us.
Ian is more laid back. If the broccoli is beyond his reach, he’ll wait patiently for daddy to feed him. Either that, or he’ll wander elsewhere, so I need to move quickly. I’ll spear a piece, bring it to his mouth, and he’ll watch it move to the precipice of his gumline. Then he keeps watching it as he moves his head back in perfect unison with the fork, always keeping his mouth open, and always remaining a constant distance from the food. He’ll keep leaning back until he’s outside my reach and I give the food to his brother, or he loses his balance and falls backward. At that point, I quickly slip it in his mouth before he can move back again. I also have to return to my plate before Tory knocks it on the floor or Abbie steals my fork again.
I imagine many things pop into people’s minds upon hearing that statement. “&@$%er” is one of them, although if anyone thinks I’m a perfect parent, I assure you my kitchen floor hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. And, yes, I still allow them to eat things that fall on it.
“How did you do it?” might be another thing that pops up. I offered it to them. They ate it. They seem to like it, and they haven’t figured out otherwise yet. It probably helps that I eat a big plateful of it every night for dinner; the surest way to encourage a child to eat something is to give them the idea that you want to eat it first.
“That must be nice” would be the other words I imagine, to which I respond, “you’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
When I sit down to my broccoli, I sit on the couch so all three children can share in my plate. Eating vegetables is a good habit that I want to encourage, especially since it’s just a matter of time before they discover I’m hiding nasty squash in their macaroni and cheese. All three children walk or toddle up to me when I call them, and each one has found their unique way to be a pain in the butt while we eat.
Abbie was my first broccoli eater, and is now the most experienced. She’s progressed to the point where she can pluck it off the plate with a fork. Not that she does; she’d rather use her fingers. That’s fine with me, but she insists on grabbing my fork while eating, possibly to feel like a big girl, maybe to intercept the floret en route to my mouth, but most likely to sabotage our eating to leave more broccoli for her. I can compensate for her thievery by bringing an extra fork, but she tends to steal both forks, though I can re-steal the one she’s currently not using.
I’ve learned to deal with Abbie. I keep the plate where she can reach it, and steal forks back as necessary. I need to be careful of how low I hold the plate because Tory is always hovering nearby. My preferred method of feeding the boys is to fork-feed them one piece at a time as they wait patiently at my side. Their preferred method of feeding themselves is to grab an airway-blockingly large handful of broccoli and shove it in their mouths. Both boys will do this, but Tory is especially gleeful in his grabbing. If I leave the plate dangling too low, just low enough for his to reach, he will pull it to the ground, dumping its contents on the floor. That’s good news for the dog who’s learned to hover nearby during mealtime, but not so good for the rest of us.
Ian is more laid back. If the broccoli is beyond his reach, he’ll wait patiently for daddy to feed him. Either that, or he’ll wander elsewhere, so I need to move quickly. I’ll spear a piece, bring it to his mouth, and he’ll watch it move to the precipice of his gumline. Then he keeps watching it as he moves his head back in perfect unison with the fork, always keeping his mouth open, and always remaining a constant distance from the food. He’ll keep leaning back until he’s outside my reach and I give the food to his brother, or he loses his balance and falls backward. At that point, I quickly slip it in his mouth before he can move back again. I also have to return to my plate before Tory knocks it on the floor or Abbie steals my fork again.
posted by Matt at
11:42 PM
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