At this age, it seems all kids are picky eaters. The quirks may be different, but in some way they are all pains in the lunchbox. As a parent, it is hard not to get frustrated. You want to make sure your kid is growing healthy, getting the nutrients and calories he requires, and oh yeah you are trying to teach some ground rules about meal-time, too (think: food belongs on your mouth or on your tray, not splattered all over the felines and the floor.)
Typically, I will rack my brain during the day to come up with a dinner plan that is healthy, tasty and can be enjoyed by young and old alike. I will race home from playgroup/park/activities/shopping in time to plop kiddo in front of the babysitterbox and then race around with pots and colanders and chopping boards in effect. By the time the meal is on the table, I am spent but supremely proud of my efforts. I will offer a small bite of food to Z, or place a morsel on his tray, and he will do the exact same thing every time. Cry, whine, smash the morsel with his hand, rub his hand all over the tray in an attempt to spray it everywhere, and then beg for more milk and some crackers. He wishes to have crackers for every single dinner, plain.
Now that he is old enough to understand the implications, usually his dinner ends quickly and often without eating a single bite. Once he realizes there is no more milk or no crackers are coming his way, he insists on being “ALL DONE” (with a vigorous hand wave) and we let him go. Sometimes we’ll offer a little food again just before bed, but in the past month I can count on one hand the number of times either food offering has been fruitful. He does not eat dinner.
In addition to the stress and frustration of our dinner failures (they are not wars anymore because we shan’t be fighting about it – if he doesn’t want to eat, so be it), it is hard not to worry that he is going to wither away from not eating. Mind you, I say this with full comprehension of how ridiculous it must seem for me to complain about my, um, *healthy* sized mini-man. He’s not quite the porker he used to be, but he’s still off-the-charts in height and head and towards the top in weight. Toothpick he ain’t. And usually he is running around with his big belly sticking out from in between his strong, thick legs and meaty arms. And yet.
A girlfriend of mine was bemoaning a similar struggle in her household and I admitted that my son goes most days eating his last bites of food at lunchtime or perhaps a tiny snack after his nap. He can go all day without eating again, refuse dinner, and then sleep through the night. Mind you, he *does* wake early and *does* beg for milk within seconds of waking up. But that is because milk to him is like a dark chocolate molten lava brownie cake to me. I’d beg for it all the time, too, if I knew I could keep getting it and I didn’t feel self-conscious about my big belly and meaty arms.
This friend seemed shocked that I would “let” my son skip dinner. ”If he refuses to eat what you make, he just doesn’t eat? How can you do that? Aren’t you worried about him getting enough calories?” I hadn’t been….until that moment. I had no idea, according to her sources, that toddlers needed 1200 or so calories per day. That seemed like a LOT. My son eats no dinner. My son often bird picks at just a few Cheerios at breakfast. Sure, he drinks milk, but how can he be getting what he needs? And that’s when I paid closer attention to lunch. Oh, how my son loves lunch.
Today’s lunch:
Half of an fruit&veg oatmeal bar (*technically this was a post gym-class snack, but it was within thirty minutes of lunch so I count it)
2 Sweet Potato Pancakes
1 Broccoli Pancake
1 Whole container of full-fat yogurt shake
1/2 Almond Butter & Honey sandwich
1 Cup Full-Fat milk
A quick estimation brings his lunch caloric total to about 750 calories, I kid you not. Possibly even more. AND he would have kept eating but he had, yet again, fallen asleep in the highchair while still munching (can anyone say FOOD COMA?) I let him blind-grab for the last few bites of sandwich on his tray, but when he whispered “more” with his eyes still closed tight, I made the executive decision to put him to bed instead.
Oh & before you question whether or not today was a fluke, I paid attention to lunch yesterday, too. You know those party-packs of hummus you get from the store, the ones that are supposed to feed like 300 people hors d’oeuvres? He clammed through half of the entire container, spread on about 3900 Wasa crackers, plus ate a whole banana and drank another cup of milk. No doubt another full’s day of food in one sitting 
