I know that I typically call my daughter "Munchkin" and that last week I called her "SuperGuirrel" but these days I think of her as a Toddler Cookie Monster. Sure Cookie Monster eats mostly cookies and Munchkin's can't survive on a cookie-only diet, but their enthusiasm for gobbling food is very similar. 

Just now, Munchkin woke up early (waaaaaay too early) after her nap, opened her bedroom door, saw that I was eating yogurt and pointed to it, asking for a bite. She ramps up from sleeping to eating in less than two seconds and this is how she is every day. She always wants to eat--it doesn't matter if it's her food, her brother's food or my food, but she wants it. She could have just eaten a five-course-meal, but if she spots a goldfish cracker from across the playground, she wants it. She'll ask kids for their food, moms for their snacks and complete strangers for a bite, even if she doesn't know what they're eating. 

Yes, I'm psyched that Munchkin likes to eat and that she has a healthy appetite, but keeping her hands out of other people's food is somewhat exhausting. Well-meaning parents always offer her a snack when she toddles up to them, but they don't realize that lunch is in 30 minutes and if she chows down on the latest "healthy" imitation cheese puff, she's not going to eat her lunch. Those same parents also don't realize that if they offer Munchkin a snack cup of grapes, she is going to eat all of them and their child won't get any unless I distract her. As I drag a wailing Munchkin away from another parent and their snacks, I sometimes want to yell, "I feed her! I really do!"

Even at home, Munchkin will raid the fridge and climb up to the counter to find a snack. Every time she runs into the kitchen while I'm prepping food, I rue the day we got rid of our kitchen gate. Of course I'm worried she's going to hurt herself--she fears nothing, after all--but I also fear her grabbing the eggs from the fridge or the juice from the shelf. 

Part of my annoyance also boils down to the fact that she and I are together all day, every day of the week. I don't mind that she eats a variety of foods, I mind that she eats my food. I sometimes just want to sit down next to her at lunch and eat my food peacefully without it being hijacked by Ms.Cookie Monster. Even my salads aren't safe from her hands anymore. I admit that I sometimes tell her the food is too spicy for her or that my smoothie is coffee, just so she'll leave my food alone. I can't do that every day or at every meal, so most days she chows down and, like Cookie Monster, says, "nam, nam, nam, nam."

The other day I met a mom--a friend of a friend--with a two-year-old son.  She seemed nice enough, if a bit anxious, and friendly.  I mentioned that I made Munchkin's baby food--not in a, "Aren't I great, I make my baby's food" but in a, "I was running the blender and didn't hear the phone ring" sort of way--and she said she'd made her son's baby food. Good for her. Then I mentioned I'd packed up food for the kids for a weekend get-away located 60 minutes from the nearest  store, gas station and restaurant (and by restaurant, I mean the conglomeration of fast food chains that indicate you are leaving civilization for a while) and I was glad because my cooking for the weekend was done.  She interjected saying she'd done the same.  Good for her again.  Yet as she jumped in with one "Me too!" after another, I began to realize she was one of those moms that took every chance to prove who was the "better" mother.  

The conversation went on, but the "I'm a better mother than you" kicker came though when I mentioned Monkey was excited to eat a cookie from a goodie bag in our hotel room. I said he didn't get a ton of cookies at home, so he was pretty psyched.  This mom said that when her two-year-old ran towards the gift bag, she was worried what he'd come back with.  The she said he came back with an apple, because he didn't know what a cookie was.  Didn't. Know. What. A. Cookie. Was.  Immediately my opinion of this mom changed.  I don't care if a kid doesn't eat carrots, meat, milk, soy or whatever.  That's not the issue at heart here.  It's the control involved.  It's the anxiety involved.  It's the fear involved.  If a two-year-old does not know what a cookie is that means that there are no cookies at home, which is fine.  But that also means that at every birthday party, at every visit to someone's house, at every trip to the grocery store, that kid's parents are controlling or manipulating the situation so that he does not come in touch with a single cookie.  

Let your kid see the cookies, try the cookies and tell your kid that they are something special to eat.  You don't get them at every meal, you don't get them every day or maybe even every week, depending on the household.  But every kid* should know what a cookie is by age two.  Even the craziest health nut can find an organic, locally-sourced, flaxseed, bran-filled cookie that is suitable for a two year old.  If your child doesn't know what a (insert food of choice here) is, that means that you fear what introducing that item to your life will mean. It means that you fear losing control or that you fear your child will love it so much that your child will end up on the side of the road, begging for money to buy said item.  Fear is never a good basis for making decisions because it means your are running from the issue instead of addressing it.  The way I saw it, that mom was so anxious about impressing upon her good motherhood (to a person she barely knew and whose opinion shouldn't matter) and keeping her kids out of harms way (however a cookie could harm a child) that neither she nor her kid got to sit together and enjoy a the delights of a shared cookie.

The lessons we impart to our children when introducing them to cookies, or television or even toys should be moderation.  We teach them that everything has a time and a place, that food and entertainment can be fun and joyful, but not if we eat junk food all day or watch junk tv for hours.  Monkey enjoyed the healthy food I packed that weekend and he also enjoyed the cookies and chocolates in the goodie bag and so did I. 

*By "every kid" I mean every kid who lives in a place/town/country where food is plentiful enough that their biggest concern isn't whether they're going to eat dinner, but if they're going to get dessert afterwards.