At a family gathering, Diane snatched a plate of roasted chicken away just as four-year-old Evan reached for food.
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Chapter 7 / 17
Chapter 7
Evan’s relationship with food took longer.
He hid bread.
Asked permission for water.
Once cried because he dropped half a sandwich and thought dinner was over.
I hated Diane most on those days.
Then I noticed something in myself.
Every time he left food unfinished, I said:
“Are you sure?”
Again.
Again.
Again.
Because I wanted him fed.
But to him, repetition sounded like another food rule.
So I stopped.
Plate available.
Food offered.
No bargaining.
No clean-plate demands.
No using dessert as moral score.
He gradually relaxed.
One night he left an entire chicken thigh untouched.
I almost laughed at the symbolism.
He asked:
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Not hungry.”
“Okay.”
He stared.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
He smiled.
May you like
Tiny.
But I remembered it.
