I should have seen it coming. The first time my little one spit out a perfectly steamed carrot, I laughed. “Oh, you’ll like it next time,” I assured myself. Fast forward a year, and I was in full-on battle mode—armed with colourful plates, hidden veggies, and more negotiation skills than a high-stakes lawyer.
Mealtime had become a battlefield. No matter what I put on the plate, my 3-year-old had one response: No. Broccoli? Too green. Rice? Too plain. Anything that wasn’t a cookie? Absolutely unacceptable. I tried the “just one bite” rule. I tried making food fun—turning bananas into smiley faces and sandwiches into cute shapes. But my tiny dictator wasn’t impressed.
Then came the frustration. Why wouldn’t my own child eat a balanced meal? Was I failing as a mom? Was I doomed to a life of preparing separate meals just to get through the day?