It's no secret that I'm a Francophile. I would move to France in a heartbeat if I could figure out how to make it work logistically and then talk my husband into it. So when I heard about Pamela Druckerman's Bringing Up Bébé, I was compelled to buy it mainly because of it's link to French culture. When I found out I was pregnant, however, I immediately bought the book because it promised to explain how to get your baby to "do his nights," as they say in French. This book contains much sage advice, including sleep training for infants, so I devoured the book and specially noted anything to do with babies. C started sleeping through the night at 3.5 weeks, and she was a wonderful eater of all things veggie.
Then, toddler-hood hit. As she months pass, C eats fewer and fewer veggies. Often she won't eat meat. And I've found myself resorting to the angry eyes followed by a fuming, bossy command of "You will eat one bite of those eggs or you cannot get down." This little scene is becoming increasingly common, and it normally fails miserably. I'm not convinced that's the process for teaching my daughter to eat vegetables, and she feels smothered and rebels immediately. So last night, in desperation, I grabbed Bringing Up Bébé again. It's seriously such a great and easy read, so I'm almost finished with it this afternoon. Thank you Druckernman for making me feel refreshed and up to the task of teaching C to fall in love with food.
The later chapters of Druckerman's book explain everything from avoiding tantrums to keeping a calm house to that all-important French cultural reverence of meals. Based on interviewing Parisian parents, reading French parenting books, and studying the science of taste, Druckerman explains the French concept of éducation. Children are taught to experience life and "awaken" their senses rather than meet developmental milestones or merely "eat their veggies" because it's the healthy thing to do. The French concern themselves more with cultivating a love of food within their children rather than a love of food rules. For me, the lightbulb went off. I constantly worry about C eating vegetables for her health, not because veggies are a delicious, savory culinary experience.
So today I took Druckerman's advice to speak rationally to C and discuss the vegetables on her plate rather than plopping them down and demanding she taste them. It might sound crazy, but our conversation went something like this: "How do they taste? Do you see how your onion is crunchy and your avocado is smooth and creamy? Look at the purple plum! Is it sweet or salty?" I cannot even explain to you the difference. Normally if I had plopped some onions on C's plate and instructed her to "at least taste it," she would have defiantly exclaimed "No! I don't like that!" Instead, I started eating my onion, tomato, and avocado salad, and, à la francais, ran a commentary about it: "This onion is so yummy and crunchy. And it's so good with the creamy avocado. Look, it's green! And the onion is purple." To my amazement, Collins asked to try some. She even ate a bite of onion and exclaimed, "It's crunchy!" Our lunch was pleasant, and I was satisfied that she ate some avocado, tried some onion, and devoured her plum.
One pleasant lunch isn't enough to convince me this approach is a panacea, but I definitely aThe French approach isn't that their children will automatically love all foods. Rather, French culture stressed that if one keeps trying things, eventually one comes around to liking them. As Druckerman explains, "The ordinary, middle-class parents [in France] are evangelical about the idea that there is a rich world of flavors out there, which their children must be educated to appreciate.... the point isn't that every kid will like everything. It's that he'll give each food a chance."
So let the education commence. And if you're interested in a great parenting book, soyez sage and grab Bringing Up Bébé. The sections on balance at home, avoiding creating "child kings," and keeping your "couple" primary in your family are pretty hard hitting for most American families, from what I can tell. Happy reading!
Then, toddler-hood hit. As she months pass, C eats fewer and fewer veggies. Often she won't eat meat. And I've found myself resorting to the angry eyes followed by a fuming, bossy command of "You will eat one bite of those eggs or you cannot get down." This little scene is becoming increasingly common, and it normally fails miserably. I'm not convinced that's the process for teaching my daughter to eat vegetables, and she feels smothered and rebels immediately. So last night, in desperation, I grabbed Bringing Up Bébé again. It's seriously such a great and easy read, so I'm almost finished with it this afternoon. Thank you Druckernman for making me feel refreshed and up to the task of teaching C to fall in love with food.
The later chapters of Druckerman's book explain everything from avoiding tantrums to keeping a calm house to that all-important French cultural reverence of meals. Based on interviewing Parisian parents, reading French parenting books, and studying the science of taste, Druckerman explains the French concept of éducation. Children are taught to experience life and "awaken" their senses rather than meet developmental milestones or merely "eat their veggies" because it's the healthy thing to do. The French concern themselves more with cultivating a love of food within their children rather than a love of food rules. For me, the lightbulb went off. I constantly worry about C eating vegetables for her health, not because veggies are a delicious, savory culinary experience.
So today I took Druckerman's advice to speak rationally to C and discuss the vegetables on her plate rather than plopping them down and demanding she taste them. It might sound crazy, but our conversation went something like this: "How do they taste? Do you see how your onion is crunchy and your avocado is smooth and creamy? Look at the purple plum! Is it sweet or salty?" I cannot even explain to you the difference. Normally if I had plopped some onions on C's plate and instructed her to "at least taste it," she would have defiantly exclaimed "No! I don't like that!" Instead, I started eating my onion, tomato, and avocado salad, and, à la francais, ran a commentary about it: "This onion is so yummy and crunchy. And it's so good with the creamy avocado. Look, it's green! And the onion is purple." To my amazement, Collins asked to try some. She even ate a bite of onion and exclaimed, "It's crunchy!" Our lunch was pleasant, and I was satisfied that she ate some avocado, tried some onion, and devoured her plum.
One pleasant lunch isn't enough to convince me this approach is a panacea, but I definitely aThe French approach isn't that their children will automatically love all foods. Rather, French culture stressed that if one keeps trying things, eventually one comes around to liking them. As Druckerman explains, "The ordinary, middle-class parents [in France] are evangelical about the idea that there is a rich world of flavors out there, which their children must be educated to appreciate.... the point isn't that every kid will like everything. It's that he'll give each food a chance."
So let the education commence. And if you're interested in a great parenting book, soyez sage and grab Bringing Up Bébé. The sections on balance at home, avoiding creating "child kings," and keeping your "couple" primary in your family are pretty hard hitting for most American families, from what I can tell. Happy reading!