In the past three years, five months and 12 days, only two bits of parenting advice have penetrated the baby brain fog deeply enough to embed themselves permanently into my memory. The first came from Aviva Allen, who described the division of nutritional labour in the home by explaining that it was my responsibility to give my child healthy food, but that it was his responsibility to eat it. The second, I got recently from my Peaceful Parenting coach Sarah Rosensweet, who told me quite firmly that—despite the fact that it’s not fair that he keeps insisting that he loves daddy better—my toddler isn’t responsible for my feelings.
The best thing about being a blogger is that the mail isn’t just bills and flyers for duct cleaning specials. In Prince Edward County, our mailbox has a little red flag that the mailperson directs upwards every time she deposits our daily correspondence, and when I see that chunk of red pointing up towards the heavens, I know there’s at least one piece of fluff in there that’s going to make me happy.
Hooray for Healthy Yummy Food That My Toddler Will Eat
Last night was a hallmark night. My somewhere-between-two-and-a-half-and-three-year-old man-in-training ate four (count ‘em, four) helpings of his dinner. During this time, he prompted me several times with “Mama, more pweeez!” and then dived in, occasionally making eye contact to nod emphatically and declare “Yummy!” with an earnestness that was a little bit heartbreaking.