I skipped this chapter in the parenting books

To say Kate isn’t a big eater is akin to saying that our economy in Michigan is slightly-troubled. While the kid eats exceptionally healthy things, she just eats very little of them. Add the fact that with the nonstop action of her body and mouth, she’s likely burning calories at a rate far exceeding her intake. When we go out in public, I have to resist the urge to duct tape her arms to her side. Not doing so is a definite guarantee that she will end up lifting her arms up high, resulting in the raising of her shirt, and exposing of the cavernous excuse for a stomach that resides underneath her rib cage.

Last week we had her three year appointment with the Pediatrician. For height, she was in the 50th percentile. I’d say that is a feasible compromise for the product of a 6’ tall father and a 5’3” mother. Her weight, however, was in the 10th percentile. That alone isn’t a catastrophe, but the ratio of height to weight creates a slight unbalance. During the appointment, she was also exposed to a scale, which created a stalker-like obsession with our scale upon returning home.

I’ve attempted almost every bribe, tactic, and circus trick to make this kid eat. I am not sure about all kids, but anything that doesn’t come from our mouth carries much more weight and merit for Kate. I mean, what do parents know anyway? Shouldn’t I be more concerned that she already has this perception at three? Regardless, I took full advantage of this fact at the expense of the Pediatrician. Since that appointment, I keep telling Kate, “The Doctor said you need to eat more dinner to fill that little tummy” or “To grow big and strong, the Doctor said that you need to eat more.”

Tonight we grilled salmon, which is her favorite. Just as we sat down to dinner, she disappeared upstairs. I found her in our bathroom, standing on the scale. “Ugh!” she said with utter disgust. “I need to eat more dinner because I am not enough pounds.”

I’ll retain this for evidence that my DNA is no match for her fathers. While on one hand, I am picking my chin up off the floor, daydreaming of the day I hear those words from my mouth, on the other hand, I am wondering if I’ve afflicted Kate with a reverse anorexia of sorts.