A 2 year old girl picks up a cider donut and takes a few bites. To anyone looking on, the scene is unremarkable, run of the mill even. The same scene, in fact, is probably being played out in farms and orchards all over New York State in the Fall, so what is so noteworthy about this one? It’s hardly a ‘stop what you’re doing’ moment. Yet in our world, it was a breakthrough. A moment to be cherished and celebrated.
For my daughter, trying a cider donut for the very first time was a huge step, a massive leap outside her comfort zone. She is a child who clings to the familiar. New textures, tastes, even new utensils are met with loud resistance. She is the child who will cry when presented with cupcakes at a birthday party, who will shudder when offered a carton of juice and reach for the safety of her water bottle. Even her ‘safe’ food will be rejected on sight if it looks even remotely different from what she is used to. A square cracker instead of a rectangle one? Forget it. She is the child who has always choked and gulped and gagged and cried when we gently encouraged her again and again to try something new.
It is an understatement to say that since this issue reared its head in the early days of weaning, it has weighed on us heavily. I stressed and I worried. Worried that her eating ‘issues’ were a big deal, that we weren’t handling it correctly, that it would somehow follow her into later childhood. “Would she be the only child in elementary school still using a sippy cup!?,” I only half joked. I steeled myself every time we went out to birthday party, or somewhere new to eat. Would there be something she could eat? How much resistance will she put up? What will people think?
It’s not that we didn’t try. I read articles, consulted the one and only Dr. Google. I battled her, willed her, gave in to her, and lost my cool with her. Ever cut ONE blueberry into 6(!) pieces only to still have it rejected? It gets pretty wearing.
I wish it hadn’t been such a source of anxiety. I wish I could be the kind of parent who shrugs and says ‘don’t worry, she’ll get there. In her own good time.’
But I’m not and I wasn’t. I just needed to figure out somehow how to fix it. To fix her.
And yet her we are. At the ripe old age of 2 years and almost 9 months, there are signs of change. She’s a big girl now who sleeps in a big girl bed. The high chair is long gone and she sits at the table with the grown ups. She’s a big sister now. Her pride is unmistakable and her quest for independence and praise spills over into everything she does. She’s ready. In the last few weeks she’s picked up and tasted more new things than she’s tried in the last year. Every day we add a small item to the tasting menu. A pretzel, a raspberry, a mini muffin. We have a mantra too now. “We always need to try mummy” she says and leaps into the unknown, with me as her cheerleader. Most of the food admittedly is then handed back to me half chewed. But we take that as a win nonetheless. Baby steps.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing. How I wish I could go back to that mom from a year ago, from six months ago even, that worried and fretted, and tell her to take a breath. Tell her that whether she believes it or not, she IS going to get there in her own good time and she’s going to be okay. Tell her to stop focusing on the negatives, to stop comparing and stop striving for perfection. To simply rest in this crazy, magical stage of her childhood, in who she is right now, and all the wonderful, amazing things she CAN do. Tell her that one day, that little girl staring at her defiantly over her dinner plate is going to be on her first school field trip eating a cider donut for the very first time with all her classmates and her heart is going to burst with pride.
Our food journey is far from over, there’s plenty more progress to be made, more obstacles to overcome. But that warm fall afternoon at the orchard taught me that I need to stop stressing so much and rest in the now. My toddler is fearfully and wonderfully made. She doesn’t need me to fix her, she needs me to love her right where she is, whatever that entails. She is who she was created to be and she’s going to be okay.
It’s amazing what you can learn from a cider donut.
