The Comedy (and Chaos) of Feeding Kids: Adventures with Toddlers and Picky Eaters

If you’ve ever lived with a two-year-old, you know that mealtimes aren’t really mealtimes. They’re theater. Dinner is less about consuming food and more about performance art, interpretive, chaotic, and sticky. My son, in particular, treats food like it’s his personal prop box for comedy. He’s fearless, curious, and constantly turning meals into a spectacle.

But not every child approaches food with the same flair for drama. Some kids, like my step-son, are more hesitant, cautious, even downright resistant when it comes to new foods and textures. And honestly, I get it. In our house, we try to balance the chaos of an adventurous toddler eating with patience and understanding for those who need a gentler approach. Mealtimes aren’t about battles or ultimatums; they’re about helping each of our kids build a healthy, positive relationship with food. So, enjoy the chaos and laughter of my two-year-old and his adventures with food, and learn a bit about how to help your pickier eaters be more adventurous with foods.

The Grinch and the Applesauce

The twins are just starting purées, which means my two-year-old has been watching me patiently spoon applesauce into their little mouths. Naturally, he decided I deserved the same treatment. Picture me, minding my own business, when suddenly I’m ambushed by a toddler wielding a metal spoon like a weapon. He demanded, with all the authority of a doctor prescribing medicine, that I open up. If I hesitated? WHACK, spoon against my teeth, just like the Grinch being force-fed pudding and fudge at the Whobilation. How thoughtful my son is. Toddler-style displays of love are not always gentle. Not exactly a spa experience, but I’ll give him credit for persistence.

Chips and Coke: A Fine Dining Experience

Most kids dip chips in salsa. Mine? My son looked at my glass of soda and thought, "Now that’s a dip worthy of my tortilla chip." Without hesitation, he dunked. And then, just as quickly, he took a triumphant bite, smiling as though he was a Michelin-starred chef and he’d discovered the pinnacle of fine dining or revolutionized snacking. I can only imagine the culinary trends he’ll start if given free rein. “Chips in Coke” could be the next big thing. Gordon Ramsay would faint and weep at the disrespect my son shows to the world of food sometimes.

Ice, Ice, Baby

Another restaurant trip, another genius idea. This time, my son set his sights on the ice cubes in my drink. Over and over again, those grubby little paws went straight in. By the fifth theft, I surrendered and gave him a spoon to keep his hands out of my glass. He treated it dramatically, scooped it into his mouth, and celebrated like he’d won gold.

The Snack Bandit and His Dog Accomplices

At home, snacks don’t stand a chance. Not because my son doesn’t eat them, but because the dogs do. He toddles around with crackers, apple slices, or cheese sticks like a walking concession stand. The dogs follow faithfully, and before long, 80% of his snacks mysteriously vanish. He’s left staring at his empty hand like, Where did it all go? Sherlock Holmes would have a field day.

The good news is that half-eaten food is also just a way of life around here. Nothing is ever whole. Pieces of bologna, hot dogs, bananas, it’s like living with a very inefficient squirrel. He takes one or two bites out of everything and then abandons it. Our kitchen counter looks like a buffet curated by Goldilocks: nothing finished, everything sampled.

Sometimes it's the opposite, and everything is getting eaten, including everyone else's food. He will gladly share dinner with everyone if given the chance. There’s his rule that if you’re eating it, he needs a bite. It doesn’t matter if it’s spicy, sour, or something he’ll ultimately spit right back out. If it’s in your hand, he wants it. I’ve started eating my food like a raccoon, standing in the kitchen area while his back is to me, grabbing a bite before he has a chance to spot me. I'll make salads for me to eat at lunch and have to give him a tiny sampling of everything, because otherwise he comes over and starts stealing my tomatoes, olives, and croutons. I draw the line at sharing my shrimp, though, but it doesn't stop him from trying to steal it.

Cousin Chaos at Family Dinner

Speaking of sharing, family dinners are a circus. When my parents, siblings, and nieces and nephews gather, food theft reaches peak levels. For the longest time, we kept my son strapped in a high chair, not because he couldn’t sit at the table, but because if set free, he’d climb along the cousins’ shared bench and raid their plates like a tiny jewel thief. One bite here, a stolen nugget there, just enough to cause maximum drama without immediate detection.

These days, he gets his own little sampler plate. But if watermelon or corn is on the menu? That’s it. Game over. He eats nothing else. Unless, of course, ice cream comes along. Then every other food group becomes invisible. He runs around going "ice ceem ice ceem" in his sweet little voice that can't pronounce ice cream correctly.

Softened Cookies

And let’s not forget his obsession with sharing. Sounds sweet, right? Except his version of sharing is handing me the soggy remains of whatever he’s half-eaten. Cookies softened with toddler spit, crackers that have already dissolved into paste, he offers them up with the earnest generosity of a saint. “Here, Mama. For you.” The worst part? The look of betrayal if I dare decline his gift. Apparently, an actual act of love is accepting a pre-moistened Nilla wafer without gagging. Thanks, kiddo. You're so good to your mama.

The Great Ice Cream Attack

Once upon a time, my son's older cousin sweetly fed him ice cream one spoonful at a time, and it was adorable. Now? Ice cream looks like it attacks him. His face, his shirt, and even his hair are covered. By bedtime, after multiple wipe-downs, I still manage to find a smear of chocolate or a crusty patch of vanilla. He is, without question, the messiest ice cream eater in history.

Cucumber Cuddles

His love for fruits and veggies is legendary. When Papa brings in fresh tomatoes and cucumbers from the garden, my son is stationed nearby like a watchdog, ready to pounce.

Recently, he insisted on taking a cucumber with him when we left Mimi and Papa’s. He clutched it proudly, carried it to bed like a prized stuffed animal, and then ate it. The entire thing. End pieces and all. We tried to take it away as he dozed off, but this kid nearly bit our hands off in defense and continued munching it until he fell asleep. Nothing screams “bedtime snack” quite like crunching down an entire cucumber under the covers. Bedtime cucumbers: who knew?

Peaches

Speaking of his legendary love for fruits and vegetables. This boy will get mad at me for trying to give him the wrong fruit, but then gets angry at me for not giving him both fruits, the one I offered and the one that he originally wanted. His mimi cans up tons of fresh fruits and veggies. One morning, I asked my son if he wanted some peaches with breakfast. In his most resounding voice/roar, he goes "PEACHES!!! Peaches, peaches, PEACHES!!" That boy would probably bite my hand off if it meant I got him peaches faster. So, being the mom I am, I decided I was gonna mess with him a little. "Oh, those are my peaches. I wasn't going to get you any." I was very quickly informed by him that "me, me, me PEACHES!!" Okay, child, you win. You can have the peaches! He gladly took his plate and began eating his peaches like a tiny raccoon trying to get as much in his tummy before someone shooed him away or removed the plate.

Culinary Daredevilry

And that’s just scratching the surface. He’s licked butter straight off a (dull) knife, eats ketchup like it's a soup, and would probably gnaw on a raw onion slice like it was fine dining if given the chance. He’s part picky eater, part thrill-seeking foodie.

For The Picky Eaters

But here’s the thing: not every child approaches food with the same wild abandon. My son will eat cucumbers in bed like they’re prized treasure, but my step-son has always been a little more cautious. He is what many would call a “picky eater.” And honestly, I get it. I’ve been a picky eater myself for most of my life. As an adult, I still don’t willingly try foods that don’t look appetizing to me. So, I’ve always tried to approach mealtimes with empathy and respect rather than force.

With my step-son, we used “try it” bites for new foods. He didn’t have to eat a whole serving, just one bite to see if he liked it. Sometimes he tried it, sometimes he didn’t. And if he was totally against it? We didn’t force it. For him, pushing too hard would backfire and lead to meltdowns or bigger resistance. Instead, we gave him some control over food decisions. He had the option of making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich if he didn’t want what was for dinner. Some days he took the sandwich route, some days he surprised us by trying something new, and other days he’d taste one bite but still go for the PB&J. The key was: it wasn’t a battle.

And interestingly, he was often more willing to try foods when there was zero pressure. If I had something on my plate and he saw me eating it, he’d get curious. Maybe not that day, maybe not even the next time, but eventually, he’d ask to try it. Sometimes, just seeing food normalized over time was enough to get him to try.

A lot of parents hold onto the mindset of: “I cooked it, so you have to eat it.” I get where that comes from. Cooking takes time, energy, and love, and no one wants to see food rejected. But forcing kids to eat doesn’t usually build a positive relationship with food; it creates resentment, power struggles, and often, lifelong food battles. I don’t want that for my kids. Food shouldn’t feel like punishment.

Instead, I want my kids to learn balance. Sweets are okay in moderation. Fruits and vegetables matter. And choice is part of the process. Because in reality, every one of us, even the adults, has preferences. I don’t want to eat everything on the table just because it’s there, and I don’t expect my kids to either.

That said, introducing new foods to cautious eaters can feel like walking a tightrope. A few things that have worked for us:

• Offer without pressure: Put a small spoonful on their plate, no strings attached. Exposure builds familiarity.

• Model curiosity: Kids love to copy. If they see you trying something new, even if you don’t love it, they notice.

• Give choices within limits: “Would you like broccoli or carrots with dinner?” It gives them a say without opening the door to “nothing.”

• Make it playful: Food can be fun. Use dips, cut veggies into shapes, and let them help in the kitchen. Kids are more likely to try what they helped prepare.

• Respect their "no": This is big. Pushing past a firm “no” usually backfires. Try again another time.

Dinner Theater: Now Showing Nightly

Now, back to my two-year-old, who clearly didn’t get the picky-eater memo. Food in our house with him is still a nightly show. Sometimes it’s comedy, sometimes it’s chaos, sometimes it’s both at once. Sometimes I wonder if I’m raising a chef, a food critic, or maybe a professional prankster. Either way, mealtime will never, ever be boring.

From being spoon-fed applesauce like the Grinch at Whobilation, to dipping chips in Coke like he’s pioneering a new food trend, to smuggling entire cucumbers into bed like bedtime snacks, he keeps me on my toes. He’s adventurous, reckless, and wildly unpredictable when it comes to eating.

But the truth is, whether your kid is a cautious eater like my step-son or a culinary daredevil like my toddler, the goal is the same: to raise kids who can have a healthy, flexible, and positive relationship with food. That means less pressure, more patience, and a whole lot of humor. Because if parenthood has taught me anything, it’s that food is rarely just food when kids are involved. It’s comedy, it’s chaos. So, pull up a chair, grab a napkin, and enjoy the show.