Our delight at baby’s interest in a doughnut

Madonna's kids are only allowed to eat a macrobiotic, vegetarian, organic diet. I don’t even know what macrobiotic means. And I don’t want to be like that to my daughter.

Standing in our kitchen and not bothering with a plate, Mr T was biting into the dense sweetness of a sour cream glazed doughnut from Tim Hortons, crumbs raining down on the tortured kitchen floor. When he was down to one final, fat morsel to savour, Baby A let out an indignant protest.

Tugging at his trouser leg and craning her neck, there was no question that our 13-month-old wanted a bite of whatever her father was so obviously enjoying. “She really wants a taste,” Mr T said, clearly in awe that our picky daughter has shown interest in a food item being ingested by an adult. “Can I let her have a taste? Please?”

Not too long ago, I would have issued a resounding “no”. My own lifelong food issues and weight problems have made me obsessive about everything my daughter does – or does not – eat. Every decision – from when to introduce her to solid foods and whether or not her first taste should be of something sweet or something savoury, to how many hours to allow to pass between each meal – has been based on piles of research, mounds of reading and scores of sleepless nights.

I thought I had it all figured out: I would provide wholesome, nutritious, balanced meals made with organic, fresh produce, and Baby A would be the healthiest girl there ever was. And yet, despite my best intentions, Baby A was not interested. Never did she ask for a taste of a dish, or show interest in what I was feeding her. Every mealtime was a struggle to get her to swallow the food lodged in her mouth. No matter how inventive I got with her dishes, or how varied her cuisine, it was always a matter of two or three bites taken willingly and the rest forcibly shoved down her throat.

Which is why we had reached a point where both Mr T and I were dancing with joy in our kitchen while feeding our daughter tiny pieces of a doughnut, giddy in joyous disbelief that she has shown an interest in something so sinfully sweet. Mr T only stopped dancing so he could record the phenomena and Whats-App it to family near and far.

Despite my perseverance that she would not be fed processed junk and not raised on Happy Meals and sweets, Baby A’s lack of interest in food means that my best intentions have backfired; Mr T and I are now desperate for her to eat pretty much anything. She eats her fruit, she eats her vegetables; she eats her organic chicken breasts and salmon fillets and omega-3 eggs and red quinoa, but it always feels like she’s eating because we’re making her eat and not because she wants to or because she’s genuinely enjoying her meal or snack. We’ve offered her chocolate, ice cream, cake, French fries – all of which were previously contraband items in my daughter’s life. Nothing got her to lick her lips and ask for more. We questioned whether she was even really our daughter. How can I be related to someone who spits up chocolate and turns away from ice cream?

Gwyneth Paltrow doesn’t allow her children to eat pasta, bread or rice, forcing them to live a carb-free existence. And Madonna lives by a non-negotiable set of rules: her kids are only allowed to eat a macrobiotic, vegetarian, organic diet. I don’t even know what macrobiotic means. I don’t want to be like that: I don’t want to forbid food or label something as “evil” only to have her gorge herself on it later because I never allowed her a taste.

What I want is to instil healthy habits in my daughter, so that one day, when she’s craving something sweet, she’ll reach for an apple or a handful of blueberries. And when she’s parched and dying for a drink, she’d pour herself a refreshing glass of water, because it’s in her nature to do so.

Hala Khalaf is a freelance writer living in Abu Dhabi