‘I hope my child won’t be a picky eater.’ I hear this so often from parents, and every time I recognize both the worry and the hope behind those words. The tricky part of ‘picky’ is that picky eating lacks a clear definition. Researchers, blogs, and parents all describe picky eating differently: some say it’s about an inadequate variety of foods, others point out refusing veggies or ‘new foods’, all while strong likes and dislikes are also pathologized. All of these statements are pretty subjective. After all, what really counts as ‘inadequate’? Who says kids can’t thrive on fruit instead of vegetables? And is saying ‘no’ always a problem, especially if we look at it as a healthy boundary skill? When you look closely, many elements of what we call picky eating overlap with what’s normal in growing up – preferring calorie-rich foods, rejecting bitter tastes, not always wanting to cooperate, and having strong preferences.
Growing up comes with many phases. In the food department, food neophobia is one of those natural developmental stages. Unlike ‘picky eating’, which is a biased and subjective lens to look at kids’ eating behavior, food neophobia is clearly described in the literature. Researchers describe food neophobia as a normal developmental stage that can start around 18 months (or just a bit sooner), making young kids refuse new and old foods that don’t match their mental, safe prototype. I prefer to call it ‘food shy’, just like shyness, which can vary in intensity and duration, influenced by their temperament and our feeding relationship.
Living (or being) a selective eater is hard for all parties involved, and for many reasons. We need to understand what food neophobia is and how we can help our kids from that understanding. We need that important nutritional check. We may also need to ask around, plan ahead, also on the go. We need safe foods. We need trust.I mean, it’s hard. Really hard.
But here’s a hard truth: the hardest part is not always the ‘part’ about your child. It’s the part about you. About how we think, feel, and talk about picky eating. About that gaze of others, about disapproval, about societal judgment. About not being able to meet standards (that we didn’t create ourselves). It’s about feeling like failing, doing it all wrong. It’s about that feeling of shame when you need to order plain pasta in an uptown restaurant. It’s about not meeting expected outcomes. It’s about saying ‘it’s okay, you don’t need to eat that’, while worrying, over and over again. That’s the hardest part, if I’m honest. And I’m not speaking as a dietitian here, but as a mother of a selective eater myself.
That societal gaze, that we might have internalized, is also why we sometimes fall for so-called picky eating solutions that are rooted in compliance. That’s why we often push, and pull, or let go, not because it feels right, but because it feels less ‘wrong’ than picky eating. After all, picky eating is not only a subjective, but also a moral label. As if kids are eating ‘bad’ and parents have done something ‘wrong’. As if something ‘bad’ will happen when your child eats ‘bad’. As if every time your child’s rejects broccoli, you feel rejected as a parent. You are not ‘bad’ parents because your child eats ‘bad’. And nothing ‘bad’ will happen because your child refuses broccoli. Mind all the quotes. Once we can see this, things can begin to shift.
Yes, we need enough food. Yes, we need to make sure that our nutrition needs are covered. But there are many paths to Rome, or to wherever you want to go. Because I dare to ask: do we all really need to get to that Rome? Especially when that road includes control, compliance, and meal battles? Especially when we are often undermining our kids’ internal safety to meet external standards? What if we can feed our kids from within, respecting their needs – respecting not only their physical, but also their emotional and psychological needs?
‘Feeding differences should not be pathologized and instead need to be accepted and accommodated’, says Naureen Hunani (registered dietitian and founder of RDs for Neurodiversity). She is one of my heroines in the nutrition field and beyond. Because as long as we see food neophobia as a problem that needs to be fixed, the solutions end up getting our kids to see, smell, touch, or eat something that feels unsafe. Because every time we say ‘how can I get a child too …’ we are undermining their bodily safety and autonomy.
I want to highlight something important: accepting and accommodating. I believe in accepting a child’s way of eating – after making sure there aren’t any underlying medical or practical issues – and then accommodating them with care from our role as feeders. That’s why I don’t believe in just letting go. Letting go sometimes means letting go of everything, both our eating role and our feeding role – often sacrificing adequate nutrition and structure. And sometimes what looks like letting go is actually the opposite – we act like we don’t care, but that’s not real. Not caring is still a reaction to something you care – and worry – deeply about. And honestly, I don’t want to stop caring. But I do want to stop worrying, overthinking, reacting like I don’t care when I deeply do.
What if there’s another way – a sweet spot between care and control? What if we hold onto our care, feeding our children from within, following their needs, their pace, and their possibilities? What if we focus on keeping our kids safe first, and let things grow from there? What if we could explore and express what we worry about in a safe and non-judgmental way? What if the way in – putting our worries really on the table, is the way out? I think that this would be a healthy approach, protecting our children way more than any amount of veggies could ever do.
Ready to understand selective eating on a deeper level and learn how to support your child from within? I’d love to invite you to my self-paced audio library pilot. Click here to get all the details and join.
