Rixa has never heard of the slow food trend. Not even about how healthy it is to take your time eating. She just does it. And drives her mother crazy with it.
Other mothers sigh at what their children eat or not eat. If that were my main problem! Okay, for Rixa the noodles are no longer allowed to have sauce, from the vegetable department she only accepts the cucumber and the new favorite is rusk with butter. Again and again rusk with butter. It doesn't have that from us! Does that fill you up? But above all: how long can a four-year-old mumble on ONE rusk?
The impatient mother
An hour at dinner is really no exception. And talk through the whole day at the same time. This is the ideal way to imagine it: the family sits down for dinner, discusses what they have experienced during the day, everyone stays seated until the last one has finished eating. In reality it is really nerve-racking for me, because Rixa forgets to eat in between and starts to show me an old scratch on her knee. So I catch myself, nervously waiting, admonishing her again and again to bite off, continue to eat, to ask her whether she is already full … (Die impatient Mother urges the child to eat more and faster.) My husband and I have eaten two cheese sandwiches too many out of boredom and sit, wait and admonish and admonish.
I generally don't like to wait. Especially not when I still have at least five things in mind that I wanted to do before going to bed. Because then my free time begins. At some point I can't take it anymore at the table and get up. Doesn't my husband find it so comfortable when I'm doing terror with the vacuum cleaner between my legs under the table while Rixa is just telling what Moritz has done on the playground again. So he says calm Father: "Another ten minutes and dinner is over." "But she doesn't even know how long ten minutes are?" (Concerned Mother interferes.) "When the big hand is THERE, dinner is over," explains my husband.
Now Rixa has completely stopped chewing. Instead, the watch takes all of their attention: "Which hand again? Where should it go? What about the fast hand?" My impatience breaks through again: "My sparrow, don't fall asleep while eating, take a bite, time will be up soon." Somehow it doesn't feel better: My admonitions are different, but my restlessness is no less. More casual Father suggests stopping admonishing, letting them run up. But how is Rixa supposed to get through the next morning with just one rusk in her stomach? (Concerned Mother is on high alert).
Limit dinner
My husband trusts Rixa. "She'll learn that and develop a sense of time for when it's time to eat and when it's over." Since I can't think of anything better, they decide consistent Father and the restless Mother: The meal is limited to 30 minutes. 31 minutes is ok. 35 not anymore. At the start of the meal we show Rixa where the pointer will be when the meal is finished. And in the meantime, no admonitions will be addressed to them. There is fruit between meals. Nothing else. Rixa is shocked the first time the plate is pulled away at the agreed time. The second time she squeezes out big tears and watches whether that brings anything. On the third day, however, the plate is already much emptier and meanwhile she sometimes asks us directly until when dinner is due.
Two birds with one stone: Meals last only half an hour for us and in between she even eats more fruit. In the time gained, I can suckle in peace and my husband withdraws with the child and a book before it's bedtime.
This article originally appeared on Eltern.de.