5 Ingredients to Tempt the Pickiest Toddlers

Somewhere between the ages of 1 and 2, you may begin to notice a startling and unexpected developmental stage appearing in your baby. An opinion. While they used to allow you to shovel in any old food all whizzed up in a blender or mashed up with a fork, suddenly they are pressing their lips tightly shut, shaking their heads firmly and throwing entire bowls of spag bol face down on your beige carpet faster than you can say ‘Here comes the aeroplane!”
Never fear, after extensive research into babies entering toddlerdom everywhere, here is the definitive list of the 5 ingredients a toddler will never turn his nose up at.

  1. Dirt.
    We’ve all been there. You’ve lovingly prepared a plate of chicken and rice but your baby won’t even take the first bite. Don’t take it personally. They probably don’t realise you spent 2 hours roasting vegetables to make your own stock for this recipe which you found by googling ‘simple baby food recipes’. We have the answer. Have you considered dropping it on the floor? No, not there by the high chair where you just vaccumed. Try on the pavement outside your house where that dog from next door usually does his business. If that doesn’t work, wedge it down the side of the car seat and give it a couple of weeks, there’s nothing babies like more than the taste of slow aged fowl.
  2. Danger.
    Babies don’t like boring food. You know the rules, you musn’t season with salt, but apart from that feel free to go wild. If tumeric, paprika and cumin don’t work, have you considered letting your baby choose their own ‘toppings’ from the bathroom cabinet? Drain cleaner, Cillit Bang, washing powder, these are just a few of my own kids favourites. If yours prefers a slightly different texture, try wrapping the food in live wires, or poking it into a plug socket as finger food. Be creative! We’ve had some great success placing meals onto turned on hair straighteners- BBQ style, as well as mixing in those tiny pieces of lego all babies love for some extra crunch. Nom nom nom.
  3. Competition.
    Y’know what tastes awful? Scrambled eggs. Y’know what tastes delicious? A sibling’s scrambled eggs. Bonus here is that the older the sibling is the more bribeable they will be, and the better their acting skills can be honed too. Get them on board with the plan by offering a small bribe like an episode of Peppa Pig or yknow, a five pound note, if they can ‘unwillingly share’ the meal they also wouldn’t usually touch with a barge pole with said younger sibling.
  4. Timing.
    This one works just as well for older kids, and it relies on a simple rule. What tastes like arsenic during the day time, is progressively more delicious the further past seven the hands of the clock go. While the cheese sandwich you offered at 4.30pm was the most offensive thing you could ever dare to do as a parent, the 9.45pm meal of quinoa salad and stuffed aubergine with lentils may as well be a bag of chocolate buttons in its inevitable appeal. In short, when your little darlings are shouting “I’m huuuuungry” mournfully from their beds like they’re prisoners of war, this is the ideal time to offer broccoli.
  5. Privacy.
    If all else fails, wait until they are distracted by something else, such as wiping snot on your freshly folded washing or climbing a bookshelf, and quietly prepare the food out of their line of sight. Tiptoe to your own bedroom and hide in a corner with the bowl hidden completely from view. If you’re not sure what I mean, imagine it’s the last chocolate digestive biscuit and nap time is too far away to fairly expect you to wait for. Toddlers find that kind of silent behaviour just as suspicious as we do in return. They’ll show up, indignant and open mouthed in no time. Finish off the theatre with a stern “No, this is Mummy’s food” before giving in. Fair Warning: This will probably only fool them for one bite, so make it a big one.  

There you have it. No more excuses for kids who won’t eat their veggies. Just make sure the meal is a week old and sprinkled with shards of glass, in a secret location where their sibling is chowing down after 10pm. Simples.

food blog.jpg

The Lying Game

A Jason manford comment made me think recently. (I know, it’s surprising.)

The quote was a version of the following: That when an adult asks what he thinks happens after death he says he doesn’t know but probably nothing. When a kid asks the same, he can’t help but talk about heaven and angels and fluffy clouds.

And I was so grateful to have a faith. Not because I think I’m better than anyone else, or that my answer has more validity than yours, but because I believe in absolute honesty with my son. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of things he doesn’t need to know. But if you listen to their questions carefully, most children want an answer you can give in an age appropriate way. When a three year old asks where babies come from, the answer ‘Mummy’s tummy’ will normally suffice. When they point to a man sleeping rough on the street and ask why he’s asleep on the floor, your child probably won’t question you further if you tell them he doesn’t have a house. And if they do question further? Well then that’s ok too. I’m comfortable to keep giving information layer by layer until their curiosity is satisfied. I see it as a privilege actually.

But I wouldn’t know how to begin to look a child in the eyes and tell them that there is nothing else but this world. To tell them that grandpa has been buried in the ground and that’s it. If that’s really what I believed, that this world is all we have, that our actions are meaningless outside of the eighty or so years on earth we are given, I would not only be at a loss for answers to my children, but I think I’d find it pretty hard to get out of bed myself.

Why do good things happen to bad people? Why does tragedy strike the most worthy of us? Why do some people have to live with illness, or poverty, or heartbreak? The answer that the world is random, that things just occur for no discernible reason is just not good enough, even for me, let alone for an inquisitive child whose favourite word is why.

But truthfully, if I COULD look myself in the mirror and accept those facts as random and meaningless, I would try and explain those beliefs to my children too. We want to protect our kids from painful truths, so we try and sugarcoat things. I get that. But in my world, where I’m not even that comfortable with the tooth fairy, (unless everyone concerned is very clear it’s a game, and it’s all done with lots of heavy winking and tones of jest to make that really evident) I’m not interested in putting an icing glaze on the big issues.

I saw a forum conversation recently about how to explain death to a 3 year old. The answers were really helpful to the original poster, but I read the entire thread in my usual judgemental way, and was left unsettled when I finished. “We told our son that grandpa lives on the moon.” “We told our daughter that auntie Beth is a star now, and then we chose a star for them to look out for so they could wave at her.” “We told our kids that their great grandma moved to Australia, which is really far away so we won’t be able to see her any more. After all, why upset them?” “Our twins were only just three, so we just told them that grandma was feeling too poorly to see them – after a while they stopped asking.”

I don’t doubt that these answers cause less upset in the short term, and maybe by the time they realise you are lying to them, (because that’s what you’re doing, it’s not sugarcoating, it’s lying) the immediate pain of the persons passing is over, or they can deal with it in a more mature way, but what of your relationship with your kids? Their trust in you to be able to face the hard situations with them as well as the straightforward or enjoyable? It seems to me that when the real answers come out, all your kids have learned is that death and dying is something to be so afraid of that it’s better to make up a story than talk about the truth.

For me, death doesn’t need a sense of magic or fantasy. And the truth is, it’s a matter of faith pure and simple. At some point, you have obviously come to your own convictions about what happens after you die, so why not have the strength to share these with your child? I feel lucky to believe in heaven, but I would still start this important conversation with the disclaimer that “no one knows for certain what happens when a person dies but I believe…” As long as your child leaves the conversation knowing that the person who is gone isn’t in pain, isn’t sad, and isn’t scared, so they don’t have to be either, what are you worried about?

The meaning of death and dying, along with illness, sex, and any number of other words, are our responsibility to teach. They are brand new concepts to our children. They aren’t inherently scary words to be afraid of. They are whatever we want them to be. Do we want them to be a lie? Surely it’s our job to teach not only the meanings of the words, but also the emotional responses to these facts of life, in a clear and open way without relying on the quick fix of deception.

That’s how I feel today anyway. Ask me again when my boy loses his first tooth and I don wings and a sparkly pen to creep into his bedroom and retrieve it.

tooth fairy

Overworked and Underpaid

We writers have a special ailment all to ourselves. Arriving without warning, with no hint to how long it’s going to hang around, and no hard and fast cure (although many old wives tales to try while we suffer) this is known as Writer’s Block. It attacks our inspiration, it stifles our muse, and leaves us with ineffectual fingers hovering uselessly over a keyboard, or nibbling absent-mindedly on the end of our pencils.

Once in a while though, something magical happens and an event occurs which causes the complete opposite of Writer’s Block. Writer’s UN-block if you will. It generally happens like this. You see something which is so obvious, that the words pretty much write themselves. A gift from the universe, an article fully formed in visual form in your minds eye, before you’ve even opened your laptop.

That happened to me this week, at a place which is well known for its inspiration to me, Soft Play.

But truthfully, once I got home, I realised that this is one of those cases where a picture really does speak a thousand words. And all I really needed was a title. So here we go. I had many runners up, but I find the beauty of my choice is that it can be read as entirely sincere, or as totally sarcastic and judgemental. I’ll leave you to decide which way I meant it. Enjoy, and you’re welcome.

Who says Dads nowadays don’t do their fair share? 

This looks like a totally unobtrusive place for a quick 40 winks..  I'm sure the 4 year old will watch the 1 year old... Zzzzz...

This looks like a totally unobtrusive place for a quick 40 winks.. I’m sure the 4 year old will watch the 1 year old… Zzzzz…

The Chocolate Wars

I have a pretty enviable three year old, who does what he is told. He looks for my hand as soon as we get near a road or into a car park, he isn’t a screamer or prone to tantrum, he always says thank you, and he never ever takes things without asking.

Well, he never used to,  anyway.

The last two weeks I have woken up in the morning to various ‘surprises’ in the kitchen. Empty wrappers, chocolate crumbs, empty spaces where expensive imported treats used to be.. All before 7am. After receiving various pieces of advice, I decided to chronicle the events, for other judgemental parents worldwide, and as a testament to the last few weeks of my life-if as I suspect, the stress of this early morning battle of wills actually forces me into an early grave.

Sunday May 11th
Hubby calls me into the kitchen, to be greeted by a virtual mountain of Reese’s cup wrappers. I count the damage, 9. I’m torn between shock that he would take them and eat them without asking, and hope that I don’t have to deal with projectile vomiting elsewhere in the house. I go find R, and after naughty corner, sternly tell him it is not acceptable behaviour, and there will be no treats for the rest of the day, and take away a stuffed toy. No tears from him, but those punishments are usually the end of it in our house, so I get on with the day.

Sunday May 18th
Had almost forgotten about last week’s ‘mishap.’ About 7.30am, I went to throw some rubbish in our kitchen bin, and was confronted by an empty bag of giant milky bar buttons. A bag I could have sworn had been half full. So unsure that it would have happened again, my first instinct was to ask the other man in our house. “Darling?” I called through the bathroom door. “Did you wake up in the night with the munchies, and finish off half a bag of giant milky bar buttons?” Surprisingly, my hubby was not the culprit.

This time I got really angry. Especially after asking R if he’s eaten anything from the kitchen and getting a negative response. Stealing, Lies, Deception tactics… was my son on the road to a juvenile detention centre?! Overreactions aside, (after three minute naughty corner for us to confab) this time we took away iPad, (more of a punishment for us frankly) and favoured toys for a week. Niggling thought in back of head that we needed a consistent punishment if this was going to become a habit. Also occurred to us that taking away treats doesn’t really work when the child in question has already had more chocolate that morning than you would ordinarily allow in a week.

Monday May 19th
“He’s done it again.”
No one wants to wake up to those words. Not for the second day in a row. I blearily went into the kitchen, to find a Musketeers Bar gnawed on on the floor. Should I be glad he at least didn’t try to hide it today? Unimpressed by the peanuts, he had bitten off all the surrounding chocolate, leaving a pile of shavings on the floor. I literally gave birth to a hamster. Sigh.
Again, he denied it, even when faced with the evidence. He started pulling funny faces, looking cross, and basically acting.. well.. three. Eventually I was rewarded with the indignant, “What?! I was so hungry!” which surprisingly didn’t make me feel any better, especially as he had been given a full cup of Cheerios about a half hour beforehand, still untouched in his bedroom. We decided on a consistent punishment, but I have a feeling it’s more about getting through to him.

I turned to social media, and as we all do, asked a question I already had my own opinion on, and waited for someone to agree with me. Should I move the choc to a cupboard out of his reach, or find a consistent punishment and stick with it? I had an overwhelming response towards option number one. Nearly everyone agreed that he was too little to deal with the temptation, and I was causing myself more hassle than necessary trying to get the message into his little boy head.

Of course, like the majority of us, I couldn’t care less what anyone else’s thoughts about my parenting are, and decided to ignore popular opinion and keep at the consequences approach. Short term pain, long term gain. As easy as it might be to just avoid the problem and move it all away, by persevering I would teach R that he can’t have whatever he wants without asking, that lying is wrong, that gluttony is wrong. It would be worth it in the long run when I had built up a three year old who asks permission, who knows that just because something is tempting, it doesn’t mean he gets to just take it. I would be raising a man who is loyal and honest and has patience, and is TRUSTWORTHY.  Either that, or just less calories for me to inhale in the mean time. Win Win.

Tuesday May 20th
Success! No chocolate eaten, one happy little boy reunited with the iPad and lots and lots of praise and play. Oh all of ye of little faith out there! I had an excellent talk with him, explained all the reasons why he can’t help himself, and here are the results. Smug mum alert. I knew I could get through to him.

Wednesday May 21st
Er… May have spoken too soon, if the remains of an ENTIRE EASTER EGG in the bin this morning are anything to go by….
Again, greeted by denial and angry face, and eventual insistence that he was “very very hungry” and then that I was “not at ALL splendid.” (Cue fist in mouth to muffle snort of laughter and maintain stern face.)

If this hadn’t already become a matter of principle, I think I may be ready to move to the ‘move it’ camp. But hey, who DOESN’T love banging their head against a brick wall eh?

We have now enlisted nursery to help, with his favourite Auntie coining the hashtag, “Big Boys Don’t Take Without Asking.” I love it; we’re printing t-shirts.

Not quite, but we have made a fetching sign together, and dare I say it… I *think* he gets the message this time.

Agree with me? Think I’m mad? Feel free to post below. I can only hope this is the end of the saga, but something makes me say “To be continued…”

IMG_3768

Disneyland Paris… through his eyes.

As many of you know, my son has a genetic eye condition known as Nystagmus. Those of you who have met him, will notice his involuntary eye movement, like a pendulum from side to side. You may know from me that he is partially sighted, as it would never be obvious to look at him, he is fiercely capable in almost every situation.

But when we booked to take him, age 3 and a half to EuroDisney in Paris, I can’t pretend I wasn’t nervous. The noise, the crowds, the simple newness of it all can be a recipe for disaster for even a fully sighted child, let alone one who struggles when we move his coat along a peg without sharing the info first. So when the Nystagmus Network, a fabulous charity working to provide support and information for us all, asked me to write a blog on what turned out to be an incredible trip for all of us, how could I refuse?

EuroDisney has an excellent accessibility policy which covers a wide number of disabilities, and the staff are happy to answer any questions you might have about the parks suitability. As a disclaimer, this blog can only comment on visual impairment, and even then only specifically on Nystagmus… And even then, really on my particular little boy. Hello? Any readers left? … Oh hi Husband.

The first thing you need to know before you book, is that you’ll need clear medical evidence of your child’s condition. We used his sight impairment card, and also took a couple of recent hospital reports which detailed Nystagmus and his difficulties with bright lights, crowds, loud noises, and the like. Truthfully they were happy with just the card, and seemed familiar with it too. Go straight to city hall, on the left once you enter the main Disneyland park, and present this evidence, and they will give you a green card, ticked with visual impairment on the back. On the front it will detail how many people the card admits to an attraction. There were three of us, and the card can admit up to six depending on the individual circumstances of the card holder. Note: this counts for all rides and attractions, but not for parades and shows. (See below.)

Once you have the card, you will not have to queue for any ride in either park. Just look for the disabled sign at each ride, (no mean feat for a sight impaired child and his sight impaired mother!) which is usually by the exit, and a staff member will be along to help you. You will need to show your card for each ride, so keep it handy, and try not to lose or destroy it. One extremely capable parent had somehow managed to have hers laminated, a feat which will keep me puzzling for years to come. Does she carry a pocket laminator around with her?

Nystagmus parents will know, that simply the passage of time itself, as well as any new environment is truly exhausting for our wobbly eyed little ones. Standing in queues, waiting in crowds, sometimes for up to an hour, all for a two minute flash of a ride, is either impossible, or not maintainable for longer than a ride at a time. The card meant that we could get on average three times as much done as those without it, meaning that although we would still need to take a long break for him to sleep or rest every two or three hours, it would be after 10 rides rather than 3. There was still waiting, for rides to begin and behind others with a disabled card, but it was usually in an emptier space, often with seating, and never for longer than five minutes at a time.

The other amazing plus was that we could get off and on the same ride sometimes 3 or more times in a row, using the first time round as a ‘getting used to the feelings/sounds’ and then subsequently pointing out what we thought he could see the next time(s) round. The staff were really helpful and lovely about this. Just remember to get off at the end of the ride, and ask the staff where the best place to wait to go on the ride again would be.

One further note on the rides, which we didn’t think of before we left. An unexpected discovery for us was how much our little man enjoyed the roller-coaster kind of rides. Where he was tall enough to go on, these were by far his favourite. Debriefing in the hotel, we think we can understand why. On those rides, it is a purely sensory experience where he can stop working hard to see and just let go and enjoy. Dark tunnels, light outside, fast movement in every direction, no one on the ride knows what’s coming next, and no one can see anything at all, in fact- there is nothing to see! If your LOs are of the brave variety, I would really recommend being courageous yourself and taking them on Thunder Mountain. I rarely see my son that freely enjoying himself, with no hard work on his part whatsoever. Just wait an hour or two after lunch.

A word on the shows and parades. Disney is known for its productions, and there are various shows running all day long. The staff will be as helpful as they can be, but the disabled areas are not close to the stage in all the theatres we tried, (being more set up for wheelchair access etc) and parents do not stop to look at your disability card before elbowing you out of the way with an Elsa wand so that they have the best view for their hyped up candy floss filled youngsters. Once people are seated, they will not move anyone to make space for a visually impaired child.

You may decide that all the shows are just therefore entirely unsuitable, and you will still have plenty to do at the parks. but where you can, present your green card, and bat your eyelashes, and ask at the door whether you can reserve a seat for a later showing,. This also has the benefit of being able to ask for something specific. (For example our son sees far better on the left than right.) Make sure they write the request down, as staff changes often on the admissions desks.

In terms of parades, it’s a little more complicated. The disabled areas give the best views, ensuring no one will be standing directly in your line of vision, but at the end of the day, it’s a parade! It’s fast moving, lots of colour, lots of music and no way to prepare for each new float ahead of time. The characters were brilliant, coming right up to the barriers to shake hands and wave at the kids in the disabled area, which made the parade worthwhile for us, even though I don’t think our LO got a great deal more than that out of it. Coupled with the fact that the card only admits one carer at a time with the child, meaning we had to separate, after that one try on the first day, we skipped the parades and used the time to get food and drinks where the queues were shortest. The night time Disney Dreams show in particular is late at night, full of loud noises, fast changing pictures, confusing colours and large crowds. Just to make things even easier, you can not stand anywhere remotely close due to the fireworks. Our son immediately asked us to “turn it off” and spent the remainder of the show in a frightened cuddle.

The Disney hotels, Cafe Mickey, and various ‘character meets’ around the parks meant that I personally didn’t feel like he was missing out by not seeing the parades, but it’s definitely something to bear in mind when planning your trip, especially with fully sighted siblings in tow.

I was incredibly impressed with both Disneyland Paris itself, and the accessibility policies they had in place. A number of decades ago, children like my son would not have been able to walk through the park gates without a meltdown of epic proportions. We would have managed maybe two rides a day, and certainly no shows or parades. The whole experience would have been miserable. We are extremely lucky to live in a time where disabilities of all kinds are recognised and worked around. and EuroDisney are certainly to be commended for their work to provide equal opportunities for all visitors.

As with any experience in life, there were elements of our stay which were out of our son’s reach, but these largely went unnoticed. Thanks to a little organisation on our part, and incredible effort and thought from the magic of Disney, the wobble in his eyes was far outweighed by the wonder.