Flashback to a few months ago, on a night when my toddler daughter went to bed pretty easily. Not much of a fight, very little negotiating, and only one kick to the stomach as I tried to put her in the crib on this lovely night. 

As I walked out of her sweet little room feeling like a total boss, ready to pour a glass of wine and get ready for a night with Netflix, the truth crept up on me and pretty much made me wince in pain. 

My daughter had eaten one bite of a fish stick, a tater tot, and an old goldfish she found somewhere under the couch for dinner just an hour or so before my big bedtime win.

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The truth of the matter? Mealtime with my toddler had become hell.

I mean, unless I was happy with her dream diet of goldfish, mac and cheese, and gummies. 

Because here’s the thing. I’m a stickler for healthy eating. I am a proud over-spender of all Whole Foods products and have convinced myself that one day, hopefully in the near future, my daughter will learn to appreciate almond milk yogurt and quinoa with roasted butternut squash. And then I won’t have to feel like I’ve failed my daughter’s tiny growing body on a daily basis.

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