Bringing Up Toddler

My wife took a photo of our daughter on her way home from the Santa Monica Farmers’ Market a couple of weeks ago. Squishy is in the stroller munching on a piece of green garlic as long as she is, and laughing her fool head off. What have we done?

Squishy’s puréed food phase lasted six or eight weeks, until she sprouted two tiny lower teeth and then three across the top. At first she used those teeth to gnaw on anything we’d give her, starting with bagels and crusty bread, but she’s never lost her conviction that whatever we’re eating is what she really wants. Yesterday at lunch she happily devoured her green garlic risotto until I started on my own snack. “You’re not going to like this,” I told her. “It’s pizza with tapenade and roasted red peppers; it’s bitter and salty.” There is no reasoning with an eleven-month-old, though, so I tore off a little piece. She wolfed it down, shrieked for more, and wound up eating the whole thing. Cute, except that my baby smelled like garlic and olives.

I need to interject here that the risotto was left over from our dinner the night before—I love my daughter like crazy, but I’m not making her risotto at lunchtime (yet). She does get some of her own food: We keep a roasted squash, yam, or sweet potato in the fridge at all times. She loves the fresh mozzarella they make at our neighborhood deli, and she’ll eat an entire two-ounce bocconcino in one go. She’s a big fan of tofu, which she used to scarf down raw but now prefers sautéed in sesame oil and tossed with a little soy sauce. She’ll eat half a pear at a time, which is like me eating half a watermelon.

But figuring out what I’m comfortable feeding her has stirred up some surprisingly strong feelings. What about Cheerios? Squishy loves them, and if there were something wrong with Cheerios every child in the US would be in trouble. Still, I had to talk myself into them, especially after reading the ingredients label—how exactly have they modified that corn starch, and what the hell is tripotassium phosphate and why is it in her food? And, by the way, are those oats genetically modified? But being a parent who’s suspicious of Cheerios is a lonely road, and now we buy the stuff in big boxes. At the other end of the spectrum, it seems slightly ridiculous (and more than a little pretentious) to be feeding her organic whole-wheat pasta imported from Italy. But after thinking through the reasons I eat that pasta myself—health, environment, and flavor among them—it seems odder to choose something else, especially something of lesser quality, to feed her, whether or not she’d know the difference.

Watching my nephews and my friends’ kids, I know that at some point Squishy, too, will eat only white food or square food or food that isn’t touching any other food on her plate. In the meantime I’m going to keep feeding her what we like to eat. Tonight it was a sauté of green garlic, fava beans, and maitake (“hen of the woods”) mushrooms. I just have to remember to make slightly more than usual.