I’ve been trying so hard not to worry about Scrip’s eating habits, and feigning nonchalance every time I scrape a carefully prepared meal into the bin, that I hadn’t realised how much of an issue it had actually become.
She’s certainly not a fussy eater by many peoples’ standards – particularly my mum’s (I know I was terrible and have memories of only enjoying plain chicken sandwiches on white bread. And then I became vegetarian. So she should know). But all it takes is a few refused mouthfuls, bouts of crying at the dinner table and pushing plates of food that used to be favourites away to start you worrying.
Comparisons are never helpful and particularly not when talking about children’s mealtimes. Apparently, my husband ‘ate everything that was put in front of him’ when he was little, and some friends’ children are more concerned about volume than what they’re eating, Continue reading