Chinese Proverb

"It is not economical to go to bed early to save the candles if the result is twins."

Twins: One of a Kind!

As the mother of twins, I try to spend alone time with each child as much as possible. It’s not always easy to do, but the undivided attention is as good for their emotional wellness as a plate of broccoli is for their physical health. As my girls get older, they crave this time more and more – and have started to ask for it. Though a solo outing to a park, a museum or even the grocery store is ideal, it’s not always possible. On these days, even a few minutes of snuggling in another room can be a panacea for feeling overcrowded by a well-meaning sibling, and a wonderful opportunity for bonding with mom.

 My twins love each other. They take care of each other at home and in school, and save for the occasional meltdown over whose turn it is on my computer, they play beautifully together. When I give one a piece of chocolate, she always asks for a piece for her sister. When I buy one a new dress, she immediately starts to look for one for her sister. You get the picture. Because of this special bond, it is easy to fear that separating them from each other, even for short periods, can diminish the “twinship.” I promise, it doesn’t. If anything, the absence, as the saying goes, makes their little hearts grow fonder.

Last night, I took one of my daughters to dinner with friends; the other was tired and stayed home with our nanny. When we walked through the door at the end of our two-hour outing, her sister was ecstatic. They embraced and squealed, “sissy love is forever.” Any guilt I had about leaving her at home evaporated when I saw how much they appreciated each other after a short separation. The next day, I made a point of taking the one who stayed home on a solo outing – a walk to town for ice cream. I know she loved being alone with me, sharing stories and secrets, and I loved being able to give her my full attention while enjoying her beautiful individuality. 

Twins are, by definition, a unit, but they are two unique individuals with their own personalities and preferences. Like all parents, I feel that I know my children better than anyone. But when I am alone with each of them, I see different, subtle parts of their personality that sometimes get overlooked in the noisiness of life. They, in turn, love having center stage. After all, they may be twins, but they are one of a kind!  

On Being A Mother

"When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child." - Sophia Loren

Tooth Be Told...

Confession: After my five-year-old daughter lost her first tooth (YAY!), I lost her first tooth ($#*@!!). I dropped it into a small plastic bag, labeled it with thick black marker, and placed it on the kitchen counter until she felt it had been sufficiently admired by everyone who crossed the threshold of our home.

A few days later, the bag disappeared. I scoured the house and burrowed through bags of stinky trash, but with no luck – it was gone. As a sentimentalist who saves everything from my kids' first finger paintings to my positive pregnancy test (also in a plastic baggie), I was completely heartbroken. How could this have happened? My aunt had given me a beautiful ceramic first tooth box for precisely this occasion – what possessed me to forsake it in favor of a Ziploc? 

A few days ago, my daughter lost her second tooth and I was determined not to give it the same fate. Though it is customary in some cultures for children to throw their baby teeth to the sky or on the roof of their houses while making a wish (see carton above about Nepal), I prefer our traditions of saving them for the Tooth Fairy (aka Mom). This second tooth is also in a plastic bag, but this time it’s in my jewelry box. After all, it is as precious to me as the diamond earrings beside it. 

Fairy, Fairy, Quite Contrary

Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,


For I would ride with you upon the wind,


Run on the top of the disheveled tide,


And dance upon the mountains like a flame.


- William Butler Yeats, "The Land of Heart's Desire," 1894


For children, magic is everywhere – even in your own backyard. A few weeks ago, my daughters decided to build a fairy garden in ours, complete with fairy houses, fairy furniture, gateways, trowels and other garden adornments. Determined to “catch some real fairies,” they presumed that creating a tiny world to attract them would be the best route. Made sense to me. They fashioned most of the items by hand with popsicle sticks, shoeboxes, leaves, twigs and the stray pink lego. On the most magical mornings, special surprises like rhinestones and crystals were placed in the garden by the fairies, themselves (thank you, Aunt Bonnie).

Imagine my excitement when I learned that our annual garden festival had in its event lineup a Fairy Garden Workshop. Designed for children, hosted by a fairy garden expert and held on a beautiful morning under the canopy of a gorgeous maple tree, the workshop was magical in its own right. After two hours, each child had created her own fairy container garden in a large wicker basket filled with herbs and plants and decorated with silk flowers, sea glass, pebbles, feathers and moss. The final ingredient was a sprinkling of fairy dust, a mixture of glitter and sand in a tiny glass bottle.

The end result was beautiful, and not just in the way a mother thinks all of her children’s artistic creations are beautiful. These little gardens were truly lovely, and I am proud to display them on the front porch of my house. This project can be easily replicated at home and I highly recommend it if you’re not afraid of getting a little dirty. It’s a wonderful hobby for children and a great reminder that we all need a little magic in our lives.  

Royal Indecision

Confession: Our twins did not have names until they were six weeks old. Seriously. When we left the hospital, their birth certificates said, respectively, Baby A and Baby B. It’s not that we shirked our parental duties – on the contrary, baby name books peppered our house for months as we debated everything from Scarlet and Sabrina (my list) to Basil and Barney (my husband’s).

The morning of my scheduled caesarean, we had narrowed our choices to about ten and I fantasized, delusionally as it turned out, of staring at my newborn daughters and knowing instantly what to call them. Besides, it seemed quite sensible, almost respectful, to wait until meeting them to name them. But four days later, on the morning of our checkout from the hospital, I still could not pull the proverbial trigger. Names were big, permanent, defining. Who were these little people? What would they look like? What paths would they travel? What obstacles would they overcome? The questions seemed relevant in my hormone-heavy state, but I had no idea how to answer them.

In the spirit of political correctness, let’s just say I was, and perhaps still am, decisionally-challenged. My husband, on the other hand, was quite confident in his opinions. He even went so far as to write our "finalists" down in loopy purple cursive on the dry erase board in my room. Perhaps he thought that seeing the full names in script would conjure images in my mind of embroidered stroller blankets from Pottery Barn Kids? As much as I love a good monogram, his tactic was unsuccessful. So we left the hospital with our A and B.      

Thankfully, being so indecisive about the names of my children puts me in the company of royals. The swiftness with which Kate and William announced the name of their baby boy, George Alexander Louis, is truly notable by royal standards. William’s name wasn’t announced until a week after his birth and the Queen waited a month before announcing the name of his father, Prince Charles. Maybe they have the right idea – what’s the rush, anyway? Six days, six weeks – does it really matter? Isn't it better to learn a little more about your child's nature, character and appearance before choosing a name? I don’t think our delay caused our children any permanent damage and at least now I can say I was royally indecisive. 

A Louse-y Afternoon

Last spring, I got a call from the school nurse: your daughter may have head lice. I drove right to school, thankful that the situation was not more serious, but displeased at the idea of dealing with this parasitic insect so early in her academic career. My head started to itch. Ugh.   

On my way to pick her up, I called our pediatrician and asked what to do. I dreaded the idea of potent chemical treatments and was relieved by his suggestion of olive oil or mayonnaise. I knew I had olive oil in our kitchen, but what about the mayonnaise? I only had the low-fat kind and surely these circumstances called for full-fat Hellmann’s. I bought two large jars, a couple of nit combs, and six plastic showercaps. I was ready.

When we got home from school, I decided to treat both my children – and myself – to the greasy remedy. “It’s like going to a spa,” I told them. Though truly, I looked in their hair very carefully before dipping my fingers into the jar of mayo and saw nothing but a little silver glitter (the remnants of a messy craft project). No lice, no nits. Nevertheless, we slathered our hair with mayo and oil, tucked it under our shower caps and began the job of dealing with rugs, bed linens and stuffed animals.   

It was a busy afternoon, but there was a lot of laughing. Before bedtime, I took off their showercaps and marveled at the fact that with their slicked back hair they looked like little Robert Palmer girls of the 80s. All they needed was the red lipstick.  I washed their hair out and combed through it with the nit comb. Then I washed their hair again. And again. I should have used Dawn – you have no idea how difficult it was to get rid of the grease! I kept my hair under wraps until morning – I figured deeply conditioned hair would be the silver lining of this ordeal. And I kind of liked smelling like fried chicken.

So what did I learn from all of this? First of all, millions of kids get lice every year – it is not a big deal and it is not a sign that your child is dirty (actually, lice seem to prefer clean hair). As I walked my children from the school clinic to the car, I did feel as if we were wearing “Scarlet Ls” around our necks, but it was all in my head (pun intended). Nobody knew and, quite frankly, nobody cared. It’s another childhood rite of passage and as someone once said, “it’s no shame to get head lice, only to keep them.” 

Mom's the Word

In June, my daughters watched for the first time The Little Mermaid.  But for one or two nightmares about the sea witch Ursula, it has quickly become a favorite in our house.  Mermaid games have become de rigueur in the swimming pool and bathtub and someone is always humming “Under the Sea” or “Kiss the Girl.”  And here’s another confession: “Part of Your World” has been on my iPod since well before I had children. There’s nothing like working out to Coldplay, Beyonce and Ariel.

While watching the movie, I noticed the absence of any maternal figure; the only parent present is Ariel’s father, King Triton. Thinking about it further, I noticed that this “mom gap” actually seems to be a trend with Disney. In Beauty and the Beast, Finding Nemo, Pocahontas, Pinocchio, Tarzan and Aladdin, there is no mother (and if there is, she gets killed early on); and, there are only evil stepmothers in Cinderella and Snow White. What’s going on? Isn’t it possible for a character to successfully “come of age” in these stories with a backdrop of maternal guidance?    

Like any responsible technophile, I turned for answers to Google. I thought I had found my “Aha!” moment when I learned that Walt Disney’s own mother, Flora, died from carbon monoxide poisoning from a defective furnace in her home. Walt and his brother Roy were devastated by the tragedy and felt responsible because they had purchased this home for their parents. But, Disney stories (including Snow White, which was released the same year as Flora's death in 1938) were, for the most part, adapted from fairy tales and other works of children's literature in which many of the characters were already motherless. It is all very curious - and we will never really know what was going on in the mind of this icon - but the parallels between himself and many of his characters is likely coincidental.

Off With His Head

Save questions about the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, Santa and our Elf on the Shelf, I have always tried to tell my children the truth. They know where babies come from (thank you, National Geographic), where hamburgers come from and the sad fact that nobody lives forever. For awhile, I was pleased with my brand of frank, authentic parenting, but I recently started rethinking my “honesty is the best policy” policy. Despite an occasional maturity that belies their real age, there are some things they just don’t need to know about as yet. 

Which brings me to my story, which started innocently enough as I read them Ludwig Bemelmans’ Madeline and the Bad Hat.  Madeline, who is seven years old, is a wonderful character who is clever, brave and loyal – my kids adore her. In the story, Madeline’s neighbor, a naughty young boy named Pepito, had fashioned a miniature guillotine with a tool set he got as a gift.  Before I could turn the page and gloss over the inevitable question, my daughters sweetly asked, “What’s a guillotine, Mommy?” 

After a quick historical introduction that would have been more suitable for a teenager, “During the French Revolution, at the end of the eighteenth century…” I proceeded to explain how the device worked.  Halfway through my explanation, I noticed that my kids were looking at me with horrified expressions. I stopped myself: What was I doing? What had I done to these innocents? Quickly, I crafted the little white lie: “I’m totally kidding, girls! It’s a device for cutting meat…. and bread…. and cheese.”  They bought it. 

I learned several things from this experience. First, that it’s okay to fib once in awhile to protect your children. Second, that it’s not a bad idea to skim books before you read them to your children to make sure the content is appropriate. And finally, that it’s never a bad thing to at least try to tell the truth to your kids.  I would rather they hear it from me than from the older sibling of a classmate with zero censorship ability. 

This Is So True...

"There's nothing that can help you understand your beliefs more 

than trying to explain them to an inquisitive child." - Frank A. Clark

Bedtime Blunders

Confession: It takes a long time to get my kids to sleep, but I don't mind, especially during these lazy days of summer. At the end of the day, my daughters put on their pajamas, brush their teeth, say their prayers and choose a few books for me to read – usually ones we have already read, like, a thousand times. Olivia, Madeline and Pinkalicious are the frontrunners, though anything with the “3 Ps” (princesses, puppies or ponies) will do. But unlike most parents, I stay with my kids in their room, usually in one of their beds, until they fall asleep. I have trained them, right or wrong, to become accustomed to this routine – they can’t fall asleep otherwise. Even the most expert babysitter will find herself with the same duty in my absence. 

Very occasionally, I will berate myself for not following the rules of Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, or The No-Cry Sleep Solution. Did I think I knew better than the experts? But in truth, it is my favorite part of the day – even if it does sometimes seem to take forever. I can’t explain it, but the sweetest, purest talk of all usually happens at the end of the day when the lights are low and their eyes are heavy. It’s amazing the things that cascade through their tired little brains and out their mouths – from the simple, “Why does daddy stand when he pees?” to the esoteric, “Why can’t I see God?” They will even blow me away with questions about my own day.  It disproves any notion that kids this age are still completely self-interested. I get a lot of grief about all of this from people in my life, but soon enough my kids may not want to snuggle – and sooner still, they may not come to me with all of their questions.  So I am taking advantage of it while it lasts.  I’m sure they’ll go to sleep by themselves eventually.     

The Bilingual Bandwagon

Like many parents, I have jumped on what one recent article termed the "bilingual bandwagon" in order to teach my children Spanish. While Mandarin Chinese is another popular choice given the growing economy of China, I chose Spanish because it is the second most common language in the U.S. (and in our home state of Florida). It is a beautiful language, and among the easier ones for English-speakers to learn. I believe that teaching, or at least introducing, a second language to your children at a young age is a tremendous gift. The earlier the exposure, the more likely they are able to learn this second language by natural acquisition (as opposed to memorization), just as they learned their first language. Even if they do not become fluent at the second language in childhood, the earlier exposure will make it easier to learn the language as adolescents.

In our home, I try to make the learning experience as natural and organic as possible.  Our nanny is from Ecuador, and though she speaks perfect English, I ask her to communicate with the kids exclusively in Spanish.  Instead of the language being taught with a textbook, it's being learned by exposure and assimilation - and it's fun for them.  To reinforce it all, we read bilingual versions of their favorite books like "Jorge Curioso," and sing songs in Spanish like "Los Pollitos," which has a lot of useful vocabulary.  If you (or a family member or childcare provider) do not speak the language you are teaching, you may consider buying books, CDs, or DVDs in Spanish. While it makes things easier, fluency is not necessary to teach a language.  

I have some friends who are concerned that the introduction of a second language will  delay or interfere with learning English. After all, we're all trying to teach our kids not to say they "winned the game" or "swimmed in the pool."  But, I have not read anything to suggest this is the case. On the contrary, learning a second language may give them what one expert called a "cognitive edge" - and may even help them perform better on standardized tests. But all of that practical stuff aside, being able to speak a second (or third) language, to communicate with more of the world, is just special. It's exciting. It's liberating. And like so many things, it's much easier when you're young.  

Doctor, Doctor....

Who remembers the game Operation? I have great memories of playing it as a child - the triumph of tweezing out a tiny plastic ailment and the corresponding agony of setting off that deafening buzzer.  When I saw this "silly skill" version of it at the toy store yesterday, I bought it for my kids. The suggested age is 6, so I figured we were close enough. Besides, I was the one who really wanted to try my adult hand on Cavity Sam.  

Within one minute of playing, I realized that the memory of this game was far more enjoyable than the reality.  Isn't that so often the case? While it does have the potential to develop fine motor skills, it is extremely frustrating for little hands and the sound of the buzzer, with no volume control, is as grating as fingernails on a chalkboard (thank you, Hasbro).  Furthermore, this "silly skill game" version, which looks just like the original, is a feeble alternative without the classic charley horse, broken heart or funny bone pieces.  

To sum it up, put this on your don't buy list - at least not until your kids are 6 or 7.  And make sure when you do buy it, you get the original version that was introduced by Milton Bradley back in the 1960s.  I will bring our game out again in a few months, but for now, it is going on the highest shelf (behind Twister Junior and Hungry Hungry Hippos).

Ain't That The Truth!

"The quickest way for a parent to get a child's attention is to sit down and look comfortable." - Lane Olinghouse

A Stitch (Or Four) In Time

No matter how much you try to protect your children from the dangers of the world, there comes a day when something happens that is completely out of your control.  Your child gets hurt and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.  I thought about this last night while I lay in bed, my girls sleeping on either side of me (thunderstorm + out of town daddy = slumber party with yours truly).  It's never the best night of sleep for me, but I cherish it when it happens.  It just feels safe.

A few years ago, my daughter fell and got a bad cut on her face.  After it happened, I was completely overwhelmed by panic, dread and a feeling of complete helplessness.  I have never been so scared in my life - there was so much blood.  Do you ever play scenarios out in your head to test out how you will respond if they happen in real life?  Well, let's just say I handled all of this much better in my head.  Thankfully, the cut was confined to the skin under her eyebrow and a plastic surgeon friend gave her four stitches hidden in the hairline.  You can hardly see it at all anymore - she was very lucky and very brave.  When the stitches came out, I saved them in an envelope and taped them in her baby book.  Gross?  Maybe.  But I am a saver and stitches seem like a childhood rite of passage - like losing a first tooth or riding a bike without training wheels (preferably not at the same time).  

I think about all of this once in awhile to remind myself how important it is to make our environment as safe as possible for our children.  From staircases and stoves to swimming pools and electrical outlets, there are a lot of potential dangers inside a home - and outside.  Earlier this afternoon, my other daughter nearly ran out into oncoming traffic because she was frightened by a big dog passing us on the sidewalk.  Things can happen in a second.  I relay these stories not to make you paranoid parents!  Raising children, like most things in life, require balance - and in this case that balance is between keeping them safe and encouraging their independence, confidence and self-reliance.  Sometimes those things seem mutually exclusive, but stick with it because it seems to be the path to becoming an emotionally healthy person.

Food for Thought

"You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back."  - William Tammeus

Veritas-ty: Spinach Pesto Pasta

Though I am far from a master chef (unless you consider meatloaf a gastronomic piece de resistance), I will occasionally post some kid-friendly, easy-to-prepare recipes for you to try out on your little ones.  It may be a cultural thing, but food has always been very important in my family - and I have always tried to make sure my kids eat a variety of healthy, interesting foods for their physical and mental development.  Thankfully, they are now both good eaters, but I struggled for awhile with periodic rebellions against certain food groups.  Beef, pork and chicken were always the hardest and for awhile, I had to get creative to get one of my daughters to eat any kind of animal protein.  

Enter Covert Operation Hide-the-Meat, for this was serious business.  Yes, the things I did are, in retrospect, a little embarrassing, but I was determined to get my growing little girls the nutrition they needed.  One of my favorite tricks was to puree a few pieces of meat and spread it like a paste between the cheese of a grilled cheese sandwich.  They were none the wiser and if they did question the taste, I had plausible denial that I carried out the operation.  Muffins are another excellent culinary vehicle for hiding nutritious contraband.  Jessica Seinfeld revolutionized this concept in her cookbook, Deceptively Delicious, with dishes like Cauliflower Mac and Cheese, Sweet Potato Pancakes and Spinach Brownies.  

Along those lines, my recipe for today (compliments of one of my favorite women on earth - you know who you are!) is Spinach Pesto Pasta, which I used to tell my kids was Green Mac and Cheese.  Whatever you choose to name it, it is guaranteed to be a hit with the whole family.  

Ingredients

1 small container of prepackaged pesto

1 large bag of frozen spinach

1 tablespoon of light mayo

1 box of rotini pasta

Parmesan cheese 

Cook the pasta in a large pot of boiling water.

Mix together the pesto, spinach and mayo in a food processor.

Stir the pesto mixture into the pasta and mix in the grated cheese.

Serves 4-6

Kissing Hands

Separation anxiety is a normal stage of development in children, but for me, it has been the one of the most challenging. I have read countless articles and books on the subject, searching for guidance on how to ease the anxiety for my daughters. The advice always sounds reasonable enough: Tell your child gently, but firmly that you are going out and that you will be back in, say, one hour, and then walk out the door without stalling. Huh? Um, does this actually work for any of you? I have tried it many, many times over the years and my success rate is less than 20%. In other words, 4 out of 5 times, my kids completely freak out when I try to leave the house. 

Now, to be fair, they are fine within a few minutes of my eventual departure. The babysitter texts with an all-clear message written to calm my ruffled nerves. But, the minutes before my departure are miserable for me and for them with crying, screaming, pleading and, most recently, some pretty sophisticated negotiating (Think Abe Lincoln meets Gerry Spence). It's intense and, quite frankly, very sad - who wants their children to be so upset?! Though I would never want to wish away any of this precious time, I look forward to that stage when they eagerly watch their parents leave and then race off to blare the music and dance around the house. I have fond memories of making my brother dance with me to Debbie Gibson's "Out of the Blue" when our parents went out. Good times. 

I have tried many different tactics over the years. At first, I was determined to be firm, honest and compassionate - just as the experts recommended. When the drama of leaving became too intense, I tried a different route which I termed the "barefoot boogie." A refined, commendable tactic, it was not. Basically, it required taking my high heel shoes off so as not to make any click-clack noises on our wooden floors and then running like hell to the car (and keeping the headlights off until out of the driveway). Another secret move involved getting completely dressed and putting a giant fluffy robe over my clothes - to give the appearance that I was getting ready for bed. Again, I would run like hell to the car and then pitch the robe into the backseat. Did these tricks work? Yes. Did they feel terrible and dishonest? Yes. A little crazy? Definitely. So I stopped doing them. I want to practice what I preach about honesty, kindness, compassion, patience and all that other good stuff.

Last fall, a woman friend of mine, who happens to be a parenting specialist, told me about a book called The Kissing Hand, by Audrey Penn. It's a beautiful story about a baby raccoon who struggles to separate from his mother on his first day of school. When my children started Pre-Kindergarden, I read this book to them every morning and we developed our own special goodbye ritual, similar to what the mother raccoon used with her baby. I kiss their hands and they kiss mine, so we are always close to each other during the day. It has not made things perfect, but it has definitely made them better. Routines, I have learned, are very important for kids. Parents, too.

Password Strength: Not Good

My children got iPads for Christmas.  They love them (shocker), and there are a lot of great apps for their age group.  I periodically download new games for them to play - and usually, these games cost under $3.  I recently made the mistake of letting my little ones watch me enter my password while making a purchase on iTunes.  Surely, they wouldn't bother to remember it, right?  Wrong.  Did you even know that you could spend upwards of one hundred dollars on extra content for Cake Doodle and Candy Maker?  For this kind of investment, I hope at least one of them is a budding Sara Lee or Milton Hershey.  So keep that password private and beware the in-app purchases.  I learned this one the hard way.

As a corollary to this story, I must share another funny one that serves no real purpose other than to make you laugh - and, perhaps, to make you realize that our kids pay more attention to us than we think they do.  After the Cake Doodle/Candy Maker debacle, I informed my girls that I changed my password to something impenetrable, something rock solid.  Boy, were they were mad.  One of them quickly grabbed my iPhone and announced to Siri: "I need help figuring out my mommy's computer password."  

I couldn't make up this stuff if I tried.

   

Restaurant Confidential: The Cost of Good Health

Last night, I had a disappointing experience at one of my favorite restaurants on Nantucket.  Despite my delicious meal, I left with a very bad taste in my mouth.  Here's what happened: My girls ordered fish and chips from the children's menu, which included the usual fried items that come with, for good measure, a side of french fries or onion rings. I asked the waiter (whispered to him, actually) to substitute something nutritious for the fries - vegetables, salad or fruit.  No problem, was his quick response.  When I got the bill, $3 had been added to the price of each child's $10 entree for the substitution of veggies.  What the heck?  

I am not one to complain, but doesn't this seem like a penalty for making a good, healthy choice?  After all, childhood obesity has tripled in the last thirty years, and overweight children are subject to a host of serious medical problems later in life including diabetes, high cholesterol, high blood pressure and even depression.  Dr. Mark Hyman, a family physician and one of my favorite authors on the subject of achieving "vibrant health," has cautioned that children as young as two or three are being diagnosed with high cholesterol.  It's scary, but avoidable in most cases.

Now, I am not blaming restaurants for the obesity epidemic.  On the contrary, I am a strong believer in personal responsibility (and, in this case, the responsibility of parents for their young children).  At home, in schools, and the like.  But, I do believe that restaurants, including fast food chains, contribute to obesity by not providing healthful options for children.  Fried chicken nuggets, pepperoni pizza, french fries and soda are fine once in awhile (those who completely abstain conjure up for me the old adage, "water that is too pure has no fish"), but can we mix it up a bit with some balanced alternatives?          

I have gone out to eat with my kids since they were babies.  There were good times, bad times and times I swore I would never again cross the threshold of a restaurant with my children (seriously), but now, at five years old, they are real pros.  My persistence paid off.  But, as they have gotten older, eating out has become challenging again for a different reason; namely, finding a reasonably healthful meal for them on a children's menu.  Sure, there are those desperate times when I let them eat the entire basket of bread dredged in butter followed by a few mealy french fries and an ice cream sundae, but those times are few and far between.  I want the best for them in every respect - and that includes what goes into their bodies.

In my experience, kids and adults get used to the status quo, whatever that may be.  So let's start demanding a better state of affairs - and a better state of health - for our children.