When my eldest child reached 18 months, he suddenly turned his nose up at everything I offered. He would fuss at the dinner table, constantly pointing to the pantry where we stored crackers and bread. Fruits and vegetables were completely off the table for him. He was living on a diet of meat, cheese, and bread, and I often felt like I was feeding a tiny Viking. In a frantic attempt to introduce veggies, I would sneak them into scrambled eggs and smoothies, even chasing him around the house with spoonfuls of peas. Every mealtime resembled a rodeo, as I tried to corral him into eating.
Frustrated, I vented to a friend whose daughter, Lily, was six at the time. She shared her own mealtime woes: “Last night, Lily asked for pasta, so I made it, but she ignored it. Then she wanted edamame, which she also wouldn’t touch. Finally, she demanded a bagel, and still, it went untouched. Can you even imagine?” As I listened, it felt like I was peeking into a future that involved a decade of mealtime drama. If three meals for Lily felt like an uphill battle, I was terrified of what it would be like with my child at six, ten, or—heaven forbid—his teenage years.
Eventually, I came across Ellyn Satter’s influential book, Child of Mine: Feeding With Care and Good Sense, published in 2000. This book transformed my perspective on family meals. Satter, a registered dietician and family therapist, introduces a “division of responsibility” model: the parent determines when, what, and where to eat, while the child decides whether and how much to consume. The key is to always include something familiar at the table, like rice or fruit, alongside new foods. There’s no pressure to taste anything, nor is dessert tied to how much the child eats. Satter emphasizes the importance of family meals, where children can observe their parents enjoying a variety of healthy foods.
This approach worked wonders. The mealtime tension dissipated like air from a balloon. I prepare the meal and place it in front of my son, allowing him to help himself without my commentary. He can have seconds if he wishes, and he knows there are no alternatives. Fast forward two years, and my son is now almost five. He still prefers meat and bread over fruits and veggies, but without the pressure to eat, he has voluntarily tried more green foods than I ever anticipated.
While he surprises me by enjoying dishes I never expected—like lentil stew and roasted broccoli—he also refuses foods I thought he’d love, like lasagna. Sometimes dinner includes “kid food”—chicken nuggets or pizza—because those are his favorites; other times, I make Pad Thai, a personal favorite of mine. Satter mentions that it’s beneficial for kids to enjoy their favorites occasionally.
Dessert isn’t tied to the quantity of food he eats. We typically have our treats in the afternoon, and if we do indulge at dinner, I let him enjoy dessert alongside his meal, which surprisingly works well.
So what’s the secret? The six magic words: “You don’t have to eat it.” My son still expresses dislike from time to time, but when he does, I calmly remind him that he doesn’t have to eat. This newfound freedom has allowed me to stop obsessing over what he eats. I can now enjoy my meals without the stress of a power struggle, cooking what I want rather than catering to his preferences.
While not every meal is exciting and family dinners don’t happen every night, this system has largely eliminated the struggles associated with getting kids to eat. It also encourages kids to listen to their own hunger signals. Sometimes, my son simply isn’t hungry at dinner time, and that’s okay. I focus on making earlier meals nutritious and let dinner be what it is.
In summary, while I wish we could all be more adventurous with food, the system has worked well overall. It avoids turning food into a reward or punishment, which can foster unhealthy attitudes toward eating. “You don’t have to eat it,” delivered kindly, has truly changed our family dynamics. I even use this approach with my younger son, a toddler now, with similar success. He too sometimes refuses dinner, but I resist the urge to intervene. After all, he doesn’t have to eat it.