“Yes,” I said, even though I was aware it might ruin her appetite for dinner. “You can have as many as you like.”
The following day, I opted not to take her to day camp. Instead, I allowed her to lounge on the couch in her pajamas, munching on her favorite snacks while binge-watching Netflix. I called it a mental health day. I even let her stay home again the next day, despite my work-from-home responsibilities and the mounting tasks I had to tackle. Over the last few weeks, I had been absorbed in my work and writing, but whenever I felt down, I turned to movies and pizza. Why shouldn’t she have the same freedom?
A couple of years ago, I stumbled upon an article that questioned why we often extend more respect to our partners than to our children. On one particularly frustrating day—the kind when you’ve reached your limit and are issuing threats like “don’t give me that look, or it’s straight to bed”—I imagined how I must appear. I would never speak to a friend or partner that way, so why was I doing it to my daughter?
This revelation wasn’t about treating her as a mini-adult; it was about granting her the basic respect I afford other people. It wasn’t just about treating her how I’d like to be treated, though there is an element of that. Ultimately, I wanted to be a more pleasant person to share a space with.
My daughter, Ava, is an incredibly picky eater. She has specific preferences for types, brands, sizes, and textures of food. Over the years, this has led to countless moments of frustration and embarrassment, especially when dining at someone else’s home. I’ve navigated every stage of parenting a picky eater—from despair to negotiation to outright bribery. I’ve forced her to take bites of foods that made her gag and even tried to convince her to embrace vegetables by cultivating a garden. She sees me (and now her little brother) enjoying a variety of green foods daily, so it’s not a lack of exposure. The girl simply has a sweet tooth and would do anything for sugar, which I do my best to limit.
During the past few weeks when she was away, I noticed my own eating habits decline. With no one to cook for, I’d often eat my breakfast of oatmeal around noon and sip on coffee throughout the day. By evening, I would feel faint from hunger and scramble to find something to eat—often opting for quick frozen meals. Nothing seemed appealing except for a few items that required minimal preparation. When it was time to make dinner, I’d eat whatever was quick and easy, just enough to keep me going.
Today, I made a big grocery run, and Ava, of course, requested her usual junk food, which I hadn’t bought in ages. I stocked up on fresh fruits and cut back on crackers. No more yogurt tubes; we now have cups filled with wholesome ingredients instead. For a time, I even limited myself to foods with labels she could read. But as I strolled through the aisles, still unenthusiastic about cooking, I began to recognize how often I dismiss foods with my own “No, that doesn’t sound good” or “Ew!” Why wasn’t I extending that same respect to her food choices?
So, I decided to buy a few of her beloved snack crackers, the ones I used to purchase in desperation to ensure she received enough calories. I even grabbed a small box of Lucky Charms at her request. Once home, as we both unloaded groceries and snacked on an assortment of opened items—fruit, chips, crackers, and hummus—I said, “If you’re hungry, I can make you something.”
“I’m not hungry. I just want to snack,” she replied.
“Yeah, me too. I guess we both enjoy snacking on what we like.”
That’s when we struck a deal. I designated a lower cupboard in the kitchen for her snacks, along with cups and bowls, and set aside a section of the fridge. We discussed it and agreed to see how it went. As long as she chose healthy options and didn’t reach for ice cream bars on an empty stomach, she could have free rein over her appetite. No pressure to eat a certain number of bites, no limited choices, and no bribing to finish her meal for dessert.
So far, this approach has been incredibly successful. I’ve released the pressure to have formal sit-down meals with specific portions of meat and vegetables. Ava now drifts in and out of the kitchen, just like I do, casually snacking on yogurt, cheese, fruit, or peanut butter while leaning against the counter. It’s not quite as picturesque as Cher’s character in “Mermaids,” but it’s close enough for me. I’m totally okay with that.
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Summary:
In this article, Emily shares her journey of parenting, emphasizing the importance of mutual respect between parents and children. She reflects on her daughter’s picky eating habits and how she’s learned to create a more relaxed, snack-friendly environment instead of enforcing strict meal rules. This approach has fostered a more enjoyable dining experience for both of them.
Keyphrase: Parenting with respect
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