Food, (Not-So) Glorious Food!

"But daddy, I don't like food."

With that simple statement, uttered to me earlier this week, Zienna proved once and for all that Kelly and I must have brought the wrong kid home from the hospital. Because no one else in my family would ever say such a thing. Finicky about food? Maybe. But claiming to not like it? That just ain't Hamilton-like.

As a child, I was, to put it lightly, a very big boy. After buying me "husky" sized pants, my mother would still have to cut several inches off the legs to make them fit. Each year, I was the heaviest kid in my class, and I was tagged with awful nicknames like "Hamilbutt," "Hamil-weighs-a-ton," and "Scott, Scott, the Big Fat Pot." It was a pretty lousy way to spend a childhood.

Fortunately, about the time I entered my second decade, I began to slim down. Countless days spent biking and skating helped, as did a growing awareness of fitness and healthier eating as I entered my teens. Still, I loved my food and still do, and it's been a lifelong battle to keep my super-sized appetite from super-sizing the rest of me.

As for The Z Kids, I'm not sure if appetite is hereditary, but it must be if Zach and Zoë are any indication. Unlike me, they're pretty picky—each in their own way—about what they'll eat. But give them what they like, and they'll eat and eat, often beyond the point when they should stop. Zach is primarily a meal guy, while Zoë is my snacker. But they both love their food. Kelly and I often have to remind them to be reasonable about what they eat, and we do our best to teach them to make smart decisions for themselves.

Given Zach and Zoë's fondness for food, I expected Zienna to be the same. But so far, it's not been the case. Since shortly after birth, Zienna has been our thinnest child. And getting her to consume anything but milk, which she drinks way too much of, is a real challenge.

With Zach and Zoë, I try to make sure they have well-rounded, complete meals to ward off hunger between them. But with Zienna, I have to employ different tactics. For one thing, since I'm happy if she consumes even one healthy food at a sitting, I try to limit her choices, since it seems the more I put in front of her, the less she eats. And since she eats so little at mealtime, I try to offer healthy snacks throughout the day before she asks for anything. When I don't, she'll typically ask for milk when she finally feels hungry, refusing anything else.

And while Zach and Zoë would happily live on junk food if given the chance, Zienna's not even big on that. She still has most of her Easter candy, including the bunny, which Zoë begs for daily. She turned her nose up to most of a Burger King kids' meal just last night, then turned it down a second time this afternoon at lunch—including the fries. And even when she decides she's in the mood for dessert, she's usually satisfied with a few bites—or, maddeningly, changes her mind by the time we serve it to her.

All in all, I'm glad Zienna seems better at self-regulating her appetite than her older siblings or I. Fortunately, she's as likely to ask for fruit or vegetables as anything when she's hungry, and she'll often consume something in large quantities when she's in the mood—like the strawberries I brought home last weekend. And while her pediatrician is on my case about her overconsumption of (nonfat) milk, Zach has since weaning from the breast been the same way, and it sure hasn't seemed to hurt him—all 5' 4" of him.

My brother Steve, whose blog I've quoted here frequently, has faced his own challenges with a Kid Who Won't Eat. And while I laughed over his account of trying to get his son Grant to cut the Christmas Story routine—acting like Randy, the child in the movie who won't eat—I never thought I'd have such problems myself. Unlike Steve, I haven't resorted to "pretending" to get Zienna to eat, nor do we insist that she stay at the table. She's not wasting away, and I don't want her to eat for the sake of it, as children in my generation were brought up to do (to avoid the starvation supposedly suffered by Chinese children, who it turns out are much healthier and less overweight than us). My only real concern is that Zienna gets adequate nutrition, so I hedge our bets with a daily multivitamin, which she loves and even begs for—again breaking the mold of her siblings, who balk when I insist they take them.

Fortunately, we've been seeing what I hope is light at the end of the tunnel and perhaps even signs of a coming growth spurt (as if the three inches Zienna's grown since New Year's Day aren't spurt-y enough). Yesterday, in fact, she asked for food all morning long, literally one thing after the other. But if we're not out of the woods? I suppose since Zienna—like her cousin Grant—is a trash man fan, we could always try one of Steve's methods, telling Zienna she's a garbage truck and that the food is her refuse to be collected.

Come to think of it, that might actually work. Especially with—ahem—junk food...