I watched my 5 y.o. granddaughter sob at dinner as my DIL smugly handed her celery sticks. “Why can’t I have sausages like everyone else?” she asked. My DIL snapped, “We don’t poison our bodies.” That’s when I noticed what made my jaw drop. My DIL had a plate stacked high with grilled steak, mashed potatoes swimming in butter, and even a generous helping of bacon-wrapped asparagus.
It wasn’t about health. It was about control.
Little Ellie had been on edge all evening. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her pick at her plate like the food was punishment. But today, she broke. Watching her tiny shoulders shake while chewing a stringy piece of celery like it was her last meal broke something in me.
