May 7, 2007
Nutrition, Yeah Yeah . . . Let’s Have Some Cookies!
I
gave my 10-month-old son his first cookie yesterday.
I
know what the experts would say. Childhood obesity is astronomically on
the rise. That amount of sugar is inappropriate for him at this age. I’m
a terrible mom. Blah. Blah. Blah.
Here’s how it all transpired. His great-grandmother made cookies. She’s
almost 90, and has gotten to the stage where her favorite – sometimes
only – topic of conversation is trying to figure out which of her
possessions each of us wants and will treasure for the rest of our
lives. She made cookies. I thought he should have one because she lives
five hours away, and he might not get another chance.
I
grew up eating those same cookies. I could be fitter. But if that’s
true, it’s certainly not because of those cookies, it’s because of all
of the other comfort foods that – slowly but surely – entered my life
and I don’t doubt will enter my son’s life too.
First, there was the “great escape” that I started making with my
friends when we were about seven. We rode our bikes across the tracks,
which was strictly forbidden of course, to the convenience store. When
we couldn’t get away on our bikes, we crossed the railroad tracks on
foot – another strictly forbidden activity – to get there.
Our
purpose? Candy.
I
could find enough change beneath our couch cushions to pick up some
peanut butter cups and taffy. Then, we’d climb a tree and eat it all –
at once. Right before dinner.
I
tried to picture us riding our bikes to the grocery store instead. In
order to save up for some fresh carrot sticks, we’d need about $2.99. I
don’t think we ever had that much money! We couldn’t throw them in our
pockets and climb a tree either. Let’s be honest. This simply wasn’t
going to happen then, and I have no idea if and how my son’s going to do
it either.
At
Girl Scout camp, we ate s’mores. Lots of them. I don’t remember our
troop leader ever saying, “Girls, you can have one s’more. Then, I’m
breaking out the fresh fruit.”
If
she had done that, we never would have had one of the most classic
camping experiences ever. Hearing a little noise in the middle of the
night, and just knowing there was a raccoon or a bear in your tent
because you tried to keep a tiny piece of that Hershey bar underneath
your pillow. Surely that small piece of chocolate was going to lead to
your demise – and that of your tentmates – right now!
You
scream. The whole campsite awakes. The noise? Just the wind. But now
everybody’s up in the middle of night and there’s only one thing to do.
Crawl into the same tent and tell stories.
Somehow, I don’t think orange slices would have had the same outcome.
Then, there was the slumber party.
I
literally tried hard to picture my parents serving my friends and me a
nice big salad with all the fixings. The tomatoes. The cucumbers. I’d
have been the laughing stock of the fifth grade, but hey, none of my
friends would have gained an ounce at that party! And they’d have gone
home with their daily recommended allowance of some great vitamins, too.
I
guess the bottom line is that I’m all for my son’s health and nutrition.
But I’m not going to read articles in women’s magazines about “healthy
slumber parties” or the perfect healthy foods for climbing trees. I’ll
pack him a healthy lunch, yes, even with carrot sticks. But I’m not
going to send him to play in his treehouse with fat-free peanut butter,
spread on high-fiber whole grain bread with slices of banana. Well, at
least not every time.
And
if my grandmother makes cookies again when we see her at Thanksgiving,
he’s getting another one. A whole one this time!
© 2007 North Star Writers
Group. May not be republished without permission.
Click here to talk to our writers and
editors about this column and others in our discussion forum.
To e-mail feedback about this column,
click here. If you enjoy this writer's
work, please contact your local newspapers editors and ask them to carry
it.
This
is Column # CD043.
Request permission to publish here.
|