Would a cookie kill you?
I’m having a mommy moment. Or, perhaps, a post-ana mommy moment.
My mother is visiting and feeding my son copious amounts of homemade cookies. Sugar cookies. With sprinkles. It’s driving me crazy. I don’t want one — cookies aren’t my thing. That’s not the problem. It’s that she has set no limits. One cookie has turned into two, three…
You see, my husband and I try not to ”reward” our child with food. Sure, we occasionally give in as a bribe for eating broccoli, but the dessert is usually modest and possibly even healthy, like kids cereal in 1% milk.
We don’t equate food with love. We eat. We enjoy eating. But it’s a nourishment thing.
And there he is, stuffing his face with eggs, butter and sugar. And my mother is loving every minute of it.
I know, I know. This is a momentary lapse in my picky eater’s already-limited diet. It won’t kill him. I just hate to see food used as a crutch for communication or sign of affection.
Image source: Newscom
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