Top 5 Preschool Food Surprises (Guest post by Sproot Founder Katherine Shamraj)

There's a lot of focus on eating this week, so we thought it was the perfect time to bring you this guest post from Katherine Shamraj, the founder of PVP partner organization, Sproot.

Nothing can prepare you for the challenges of feeding a preschool-aged child--not even feeding another preschool-aged child! Each child is so different, it’s hard to find any rhyme, reason or pattern to their relationship with food and eating.

Since starting Sproot, Boston's only nutrition-focused food company for young children, I've learned more than I knew there was to learn about feeding this age group. Throughout this process, I've had an incredible resource on hand -- Registered Dietician with a PhD in early childhood nutrition and a two-year-old daughter. When I am stumped, Dr. E. Whitney Evans always has an answer that's both practical and rooted in academic research. Because the research she shares with me looks for statistic significance instead of crowd-pleasing sound bites, her answers don't always apply to every single child. But on average, they apply to most children most of the time.

Here are five of the biggest preschool feeding surprises I've learned about:

SURPRISE #1:  14 TIMES

Otherwise known as:

• Once every single day for 2 weeks
• Once a week for 3.5 months
• Once a month for 1.2 years

This is how many times it takes -- on AVERAGE -- for a child to accept a new food if they don't like it immediately. Some children might take 5 times, others might take 25 times. The worst thing a parent could do is think: "My child doesn't like beans," and stop putting beans in front of them.

SURPRISE #2: VISUALS COUNT
There's this thing called "sensory processing" that influences a child's acceptance of food. Even if they don't eat it, exposing them to food by allowing them to see, touch, and smell it increases likelihood of acceptance. So, even if that broccoli comes back uneaten, it has still served a purpose so long as it was placed in front of them. It's very important for them to have their ENTIRE contents of the lunchbox placed in front of them at lunchtime (as opposed to allowing them to pull some things out and leave others behind).

SURPRISE #3: TASTE PREFERENCES ARE SET BEFORE AGE 4

The flavors they like by age four are the flavors they will default to for the rest of their lives. Wow! In a study that followed the same set of children from ages two to eight, the strongest predictor of the number of foods liked at age eight years was the number of foods liked at age four years. New foods? Far more likely to be accepted between ages two to four, than between ages four and eight.

SURPRISE #4: TODAY’S MEAL, TOMORROW’S HABIT

If you eat takeout more than once a week, you’re giving your children a lifelong preference for unhealthy food. Restaurant and prepared foods are tasty. That's their job. But they are rarely healthy. With today's lifestyle it is difficult to avoid ordering takeout. But when you put the following two facts together, you may think twice about what to order:

1) Food preferences are set before age four (see SURPRISE #3)
2) Eating away from home has proven to result in higher caloric intake and consumption of sugar and salt

It's impractical to suggest not eating prepared foods, but consider that today’s restaurant meals will set your child’s flavor preferences to extra salty, extra sweet, extra fat for the rest of their lives. Proceed, but with caution.

SURPRISE #5: GIVE THEM SWEETS, NOT TREATS

One of the most surprising things I learned from Dr. Evans is that she recommends that if you are going to give your child a sweet anyway, it is better to give it to them alongside dinner instead of saving it for later. This surprising piece of advice may remove negotiating leverage during the day ("You won't get your treat unless...") but not putting sweets on a pedestal is important for a number of reasons, which Dr. Evans eloquently describes here.

 

Connecting with our Kids

Pine Village Co-Founders Emma LaVecchia and Brid Martin

This post was written by Emma LaVecchia, Co-Founder of Pine Village Preschool. 

Every now and then, in between all of the office hours, I get the chance to meet with and talk to real live parents (and children) in person, to learn about their experiences at Pine Village and listen to what is important to them. 

Please don’t misunderstand, I am forever grateful for the opportunity to run this business, and deep inside I really love the business aspect of things.  I have learned more than I could have ever imagined, and relish every second.  But if I could ever dream of having the best of all worlds, it would be to spend more time with parents and share what we have learned, and of course learn more from all of them. 

Wednesday night was one of those wonderful and rare “connection” opportunities.  This is the stuff that fuels my tank.  I’m sure it does the same for all of us who are educators at heart, including Brid (the other PV Co-Founder), when we find ourselves missing the “people piece”.

We gathered that evening to help guide a small group of Pine Village parents at one of our locations to start a Parent Committee group, which they hope will, in part, have a positive impact on building community in their school.  This is of course another great passion of ours: to build communities within our schools that nurture lifelong relationships between families and children.  But that’s a whole other topic. 

The moment from that night that has remained with me until now was the discussion about connecting with our own children, and how as parents we want to have a clearer picture of what happens at school in order to know how they spend their day.  This of course was one of the subtopics that generated from the Committee goal of wanting to enhance the experience that their child has each day.  I was reminded in a deep way that connecting with our children isn’t only about collecting facts, knowing schedules, gathering and looking at their projects, knowing what they ate, or which park they went to.  Connecting with our kids is truly about understanding how they feel.  Yes, it’s a right brain AND left brain thing.

As parents, when we want to know how our children are doing, we instinctively look for answers to questions; hard facts, real life examples to show us what our child did that day or week.  We want daily notes, photos, newsletters, projects and emails.  This is our left brain at work.  However, we are often so focused on those pieces – and it takes so much of the time and energy that is at its lowest point when we finally have the chance – that we don’t fully engage the other side, the emotional connections of the right brain.  We often forget to talk – just talk – to our kids.  To ask our children – yes even the very young ones: 

• “What were you thinking about when you made this picture?”
• “How were you feeling today at school when your teacher left early?” 
• “Tell me about who you played with?”
• “How is your new friend Jane? Why do you like playing with her?” 

It’s not just about the notes and the pictures. We need to focus equally on connecting emotionally with our children.   We need to walk with them on their journey of life, and encourage them to acknowledge the feelings and emotions they experience by asking about them and listening to them about their day.  This is truly how we get to know our children, learn about their day and what they learned and experienced. 

One morning this week as I was driving my 17 year old to high school, he said to me: “Mom, do you know why kids cheat?  It’s because teachers and parents put more emphasis on a grade rather than what we actually know.”  At the time I had three thoughts, 1) “Sad”  2) “That was quite profound for a kid his age.”  And, 3) “I hope he isn’t cheating.”

But his statement had even greater meaning since our parent meeting last week.  It’s truly not only about how many projects the children complete that day, if you received a daily note or if your child read three or four books that day. It is equally about experiencing what our children are experiencing.  About engaging with our children and taking the time to understand this whole other part of their life, from their perspective.  It applies to teachers as well.  We can get so caught up in the daily tasks of the day that we forget to enjoy the kids, to engage with them, to really get involved in their play.

Yes, of course there is a balance.  And in that perfect world we would all be able to have just the right amounts of each.  In reality though, most of us probably need to make the conscious effort to engage and emotionally connect, with our own children in particular, and put aside our expectations and predetermined guide of what we think determines success.

The Incident At Cockle Cove Road (And Other Adventures in Discipline)

So there my sister and I were last week, driving down the charming Cape Cod road happily chatting when, from behind us, James piped up, “Here comes the binky!” and a binky landed in my lap.

Hold on a second, you say. Isn’t that kid almost three years old? Isn’t that way too late for a binky?

Well, yes. I suppose so. But I do have to admit that Lucy had a binky for a very long time. At least until four. (I am ashamed to say that I don’t entirely remember how long she had it; I wouldn’t be surprised if I were presented with photographic evidence that showed she had one for another year or so.)

With Lucy it wasn’t a deliberate thing. We were first-time parents and, to be honest, it was just easier that way. I mean, I considered the whole cut-off-the-tip-of-the-binky-so-that-it-doesn’t-have-the-whole-suction thing, the let’s-tie-it-to-the-balloon-and-send-it-off-with-a-proper-good-bye thing, the ceremonious-collect-all-the-binkies-and-throw-them-away thing (can you tell I’m an avid reader of parenting magazines?), but it was always a half-hearted attempt and it never got very far.

My husband, on the other hand, just shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Whatever. She’ll be done with it when she’s done with it.’ And, guess what, that’s exactly what happened.

Flash forward ten years and here we are in the same place with James. This time around, however, it is entirely deliberate. It’s part of the strategy in fact. First of all, it’s come to my attention that if a binky is in James’s mouth, nothing else is. Although I do recognize that’s not the most child-proof method of child-proofing, it does come in handy, I must say. Particularly when, say, he’s playing in a garden that has a big, honking Nightshade plant (i.e., deathly poison) about three feet to the left.
If I were smart, I would say that that’s the true reason that we haven’t done anything to begin the binky separation process. But that wouldn’t be the truth. The binky is a key element in our discipline strategy with James – because nothing else works.

Being that James is #3, we aren’t entirely surprised that he didn’t respond in the way the first two did. We learned that lesson when Will came along. Take the whole counting thing, one of the universal discipline strategies across time. What parent doesn’t use the “I’m going to count to three” phrase on a regular basis? With Lucy, we never even got to two. Heck, we never got to two and a half. She’s a rules girl, and by the time we got to two, we were well on our way to whatever point we needed to make. Will, on the other hand, would ask, “But what’s going to happen when you get to three? Will you take my cars away? Will I go into a time out?” And then, based on the answer, he’d decide whether to do what we wanted or not. I wasn’t thrilled, but at least I had a sense of where things were heading.

But now there’s James. James just takes a passing glance at the rules and then leaves them in his dust. When I start counting to three, he just, in his sweet little voice, counts along with me. “Twooooo… Threeeeee…” It’s all I can do not to end up laughing hysterically. Forget following through with any kind of threat. Not to say that James doesn’t end up in his share of time outs, but it’s not the end-all-be-all that it was once upon a time.

Which brings me back to the binky. James couldn’t care less if he ends up in a time out after we get to three. That’s just a chance for him to sing to himself for three minutes. But if we threaten to take away his binky, well, that’s a whole other story entirely.

For example, when I found myself driving along at a fair clip and then all of a sudden there was a binky coming my way, I knew that the first thing I needed to do was tell him that he was never to throw things in a car, and most certainly not in the direction of -- or at -- the driver. The second thing, of course, was me saying that he wasn’t getting the binky back and that it was in a time out for a really long time.

The fact that he barely reacted to that was suspicious.

So I looked into the rearview mirror, only to discover that he was sitting there with a whole other binky in his mouth. He’d apparently taken to carrying around an extra. No wonder he wasn’t concerned.

But he’d thrown it in the car. And he’d thrown it at me, i.e., the driver. The problem, however, was that by the time I’d realized that, it was several minutes later. And we were on a country road that had nowhere I could pull over to make my point right away, something that all of those parenting magazines I read say is crucial with kids this age. Then again, when my other kids were this age, they wouldn’t have thought to have a second binky in reserve.

A few miles down the road, I saw a turn off. Cockle Cove Road. Even though it was now ten minutes later, I pulled over, got out of the car, and went around to his side and opened the door.

“No throwing in the car. No throwing at the driver. This binky is in time out until we get home.” Binky #2, gone.

He cried the whole way home.

I didn’t like it – and I don’t particularly like that I know what his weakness is and that I use it. But that’s the line we walk as parents, isn’t it? It’s our job to make sure that, well, they don’t grow up and keep throwing things at the driver. And sometimes it isn’t pretty.

In the meantime, though – and as long as he doesn’t keep throwing it -- he can have the binky.

I Believe

This past weekend was, for some of us, Easter Weekend. And, no, this isn't about to be about religious beliefs or different spiritual traditions – this is about the all-important question of, well, the Easter Bunny.

My ten-year-old is a jumble of personalities. He can be so incredibly sweet – making sure to grab that extra lollipop for his sister or worrying that his baby brother feels scared and alone when put into his crib for bed. At the same time, he can easily whack that brother in the head with a soccer ball or say the most obnoxious thing to his sister. "It's not my fault!" rolls off the tongue much more easily than "I love you, Mom," I'm sorry to say.

And as Saturday night rolled around, it was his question I was dreading: "Mom, is there really an Easter Bunny?"

Now, don't get me wrong. It isn't the first time this has come up. In fact, it isn't the first kid that I've had to go through this with. Lucy, my now 12-year-old, however, went about it in a different way. She sat me down one summer – well outside of any concerning calendar events – and said, "Mama, I need to ask you a question. And I need you to promise me that you'll tell me the absolute truth."

Given that she was about six at the time, the answer was a no brainer. "Of course," I said. I couldn't imagine not telling her the truth about whatever she wanted to know.

Except then the question came: "There's not really an Easter bunny, right?"

Um…

So I stammered and backpedaled and looked for a way out of the promise I'd just made. And in my very unhelpful silence, she followed it up with, "I mean, is there really a big bunny that walks around and brings candy to, like, everyone in the world?"

That one I could answer easily. "Not everyone in the world celebrates Easter, Luce."

The withering glare she gave me indicated that she wasn't falling for the stalling bit, not even a little.

So you'd think that when the question was raised by Will all these years later that I would have had my wits about me. Especially because, as I said, it wasn't the first time he'd asked. He, too, began to question the existence of a six-foot tall rabbit bearing chocolate and jelly beans. Being a second/third/fourth grader these days doesn't allow for much in terms of innocence. But in previous years he asked in such a way that it was more than easy to brush off the question; I got the sense that he was more than happy to be allowed to believe.

This year was a little bit different. He's ten, after all; a world weary fifth grader. He's walked through CVS and Target and seen all the candy displays. So this time when he asked, I decided to go with the words that his sister had handed me years ago.

"Well," I said, my heart pounding loudly, "it's not like there's a big bunny that walks around handing out candy."

I know. You're hoping that his answer was a casual shrug and a smile and a "Yeah, I kind of figured." Right? Because that's what I was hoping the answer would be too. I mean, he's ten. World weary and all that.

But when he looked at me, there was disappointment in his eyes. "Really?" he said, in a sad kind of way.

Then came the shrug and the answer I'd hoped for, but I knew it wasn't real.

So I quickly and wholeheartedly said, "But I believe."

Thank goodness he didn't ask me in what – because I couldn't with a good conscience continue with the six-foot-bunny thing. But he gave me that sweet innocent smile and then he nodded happily.

And you know what? I do believe. (So don't get me started on Santa.)