The Child and His Food by MRS. I. H. E.

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Nov 18, 1915

The Child and His Food

By MRS. I. H. E.

MANY mothers, in their anxiety to see their children eat heartily, make the mistake of unconsciously training them to be disagreeably critical of their food. It is no uncommon sight to see a child fretfully push away his plate, declaring that he does not like or does not want this or that. Usually he has in mind something that he does want, and very often he gets it.

One frail little mother of a remarkably sturdy son went through some such scene as the following each morning:—

“Now, darling, will you have some of this nice oatmeal and cream?”

“No!” Henry was as emphatic as his mother was conciliatory.

“But it will make you grow.”

“No!”

“Please—just a little, for mother—that’s a good boy.”

“NO!”

“Well, what should you like to eat, dear?”

After much coaxing, the young autocrat of the breakfast table would give his decision. Perhaps, having asserted himself, he would “exercise his individuality” by accepting the food first offered. Often he would call for something not on the table, which, as likely as not, must be especially prepared. To wait did not trouble him; for “piecing” was already a habit, and he rarely came to the table really hungry. And his mother, actuated by the idea that what her son liked and wanted, and therefore “relished,” would be the best thing for him to eat, continued to cultivate and serve his whims. In this particular case, circumstances rescued a charming and lovable child from developing into a captious, critical man, whom nothing could please; but too often the seed thus unconsciously sown in the child’s mind by a doting mother bears its full fruit in the man, and his wife and friends must later suffer from habits that need never have been formed.

A Thankless Bondage

Twenty years ago a lovely young woman married, and went to live on a pleasant farm. The view from her kitchen windows would delight the eye of an artist, while the grove of fine trees near the house sounds a constant invitation to the enjoyment of the out-of-doors. A sparkling, joyous, happy-hearted girl she was, and she developed into an absolutely unselfish wife and a devoted mother. No time has she for “views” or idling. Her days are spent between the kitchen and the dining room, in an endless round of preparing and serving and cleaning up. Her husband has a “finicky” appetite. Never will he eat pancakes for breakfast, but every morning of the year he must have muffins. Two of the boys are equally decided—only they will not taste muffins, but must have pancakes. The third, and youngest, of the boys will have neither. Hot buttered toast, of just the right brownness, is his favorite breakfast stand-by.

Two of these men-folk like a certain hot drink every morning of the year, another chooses cold milk, while five-year-old Robbie, not liking either, has a special beverage prepared for him each meal. As often as not it remains untouched, but woe be the day when its preparation is omitted.

Multiplying this mother’s work in getting one meal by the number of meals prepared and served in a day, and then by the number of days in a year, gives a quick answer to the questions that arise as to why her time is so largely spent in her kitchen, and what has become of the high spirits and zest for life that distinguished her girlhood.

Instead of such indulgence being a benefit to a child, it is a positive injury. What at first was only an imagined dislike, a mere caprice or whim, is developed into absolute distaste; and often he forms the habit of avoiding many plain, wholesome foods, which would give a healthful variety to his bill of fare. Moreover, mothers who take such a course are forging chains that will bind them to thankless bondage in later years.

It is well to look ahead sometimes, to see where certain tendencies, if indulged, will end, and to take steps to check them while the process will not be difficult for the mother or painful for the child.

Wisdom Is Needed

Of course children who are frail, or who have especially delicate digestions, should not be compelled to eat what “goes against them.” The wise mother, while not forcing the child to eat what is really distasteful, will never allow the matter to become a topic of comment and question. If at a friend’s table, she will quietly substitute a bit of plain food, such as a slice of bread. At home she will, until such time as seems suitable, avoid raising the issue. To say, every time a certain food is served, “Remember, father, John never eats beans,” “Mary does not like grains,” “Susie never tastes apple sauce,” gives to these childish notions an importance they do not deserve, and has the additional disadvantage of fixing the impression in the mind.

One Mother’s Resolution

One mother who had suffered many things from visiting children who ate little of the vegetables and other common foods placed on their plates, resolved to take a different course with her own son.

‘When my son began to eat,’ she says, ‘I resolved that he should not be allowed to develop so many food whims, to cause him discomfort, and his mother, wife, or hostess annoyance in later life. From the first he was required to eat a small portion of all food suitable for him on the table. If he really disliked it, he needed only to take a small serving, possibly a teaspoonful; but the next time he was obliged to try it again. He was never allowed to express dislike for any article of food, and thus strengthen his prejudice against it; while his father and I were careful to keep our individual distastes to ourselves. As a reward, now at twelve years of age, our boy enjoys most ordinary articles of food, while he will eat without protest whatever is served him. His health is greatly benefited by a varied diet, to say nothing of the satisfaction the home caterer derives from a normal eater.’

A Small Girl’s Aversion

Occasionally a child seems to inherit, along with the color of his eyes and hair, a positive repugnance to some article of diet. From the time she was given her first “tastes” of solid food, Bettina evinced a strong dislike for rice. All other grains—boiled, puffed, or flaked—she ate with relish. Her mother was very particular to have the child’s food served regularly, and of a variety and kind suitable to her age; she was never allowed to “piece,” so she came to the table with a normal, hearty appetite. But no matter how hungry she was, it was a long time before she could be persuaded to swallow rice, whatever the disguise in which it appeared.

This aversion was never mentioned in Bettina’s presence. Occasionally, as a matter of course, a tiny portion was offered, and it was understood that she would try to eat it. So well has this plan worked that now, at ten years, while she does not enjoy rice, she has so far overcome her former loathing that she can eat it when it is necessary. By taking this course, Bettina’s mother helped her child to rise above a condition that otherwise would have held the mastery over her.

And herein is the substance of the whole matter. Every good, wholesome habit formed, every unreasonable whim and notion conquered, adds by so much to the child’s equipment for a happy, successful, and helpful life. That is the goal of all true mother service, and it should never be lost sight of.

MRS. I. H. E.