Mealtimes in our house are where meltdowns are most likely to erupt. And since meals happen three times a day, you can imagine the deep sighing that goes on around here.
Both of my boys ate everything as babies. During weaning, nothing was off-limits—they happily devoured small, slightly mushy versions of our meals. I thought I’d absolutely nailed the whole “getting your kids to eat well” thing and couldn’t understand why others struggled. My smugness was so obnoxious, it’s a wonder I wasn’t publicly shunned.
But, oh, how the universe loves a good humbling.
Around the age of three, Large Child just stopped eating. Not in a dramatic tantrum-y way—he simply shut down. I’ll never forget the first time it happened. He sat at the table for a family meal, and the colour drained from his face. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared at his plate, unable to eat anything.
This became a regular pattern. Foods he’d happily devoured for two years were suddenly unbearable, and mealtimes turned into emotional minefields.
Memories of My Own Food Struggles
As a child, I also struggled with food, and my parents took the old-school “you’ll sit there until you’ve eaten it” approach. Cue hours at the dinner table, crying and retching, often ending with me vomiting. I remember wanting to eat but being unable to. The textures, the flavours—it was all too much.
Meals became a source of misery, and I stayed underweight and food-averse well into adulthood. Those memories made me realise Large Child wasn’t just being fussy—he was overwhelmed, and there was no way I was going to force him to endure something that brought him so much distress.
Letting Large Child Lead
I decided to let Large Child take the lead and started with a simple question: What would you like to eat? He told me he was most comfortable with cereal, so that’s what I gave him. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner—cereal it was. No pressure, no bribes, no comments. My goal was simple: get him comfortable with eating something, anything, at meal times.
To my surprise, this approach worked almost immediately. Within a week, Large Child was happily eating cereal at every meal. Yes, it wasn’t ideal, but he was eating enough to keep his energy up, and the tears and distress disappeared.
From there, I started putting a small side plate of dinner next to his cereal bowl. Again, I said nothing. And again, to my surprise, he started trying bites of the “extra” food. Some days he finished the whole side plate. Other days, he didn’t touch it. Both were fine.
Two Years Later
Now, Large Child has a more restricted diet than I’d like, but he eats at every meal without distress. He knows his safe food—cereal—is always available, which gives him the confidence to explore other foods when he feels ready.
Sometimes he doesn’t like what I’ve made. Sometimes he’s had a bad day and just doesn’t have the emotional energy to eat proper food. On those days, cereal saves the day, and I’m fine with that.
Small Child has followed the same path with food and it was much easier to handle because we were already in the mindset of going with the flow of what he needs.
Why Safe Foods Matter
Safe foods—those consistent, reliable staples—are essential in our house. Food can be a massive source of anxiety for neurodivergent kids. It’s inconsistent in texture, taste, and quantity, and that unpredictability can be overwhelming.
As an adult, I still struggle with this. If there’s not enough pasta on my plate, I’ll quietly spiral. If a banana has a big bruise, it’s going straight in the bin while I gag in the corner. Processed foods, with their consistency and predictability, are reassuring in a world full of suprises. I can often be found devouring a bowl of pasta with just butter and grated cheese on top, it’s the best!
I’ve come to terms with the fact that my kids don’t have the varied, balanced diet I initially envisioned. What matters is that they’re eating enough to stay healthy and that mealtimes are no longer a battleground.
The Bigger Picture
I know from my own experience that their diets will likely expand as they grow. By removing the pressure and allowing them to eat what feels safe, they’re more open to eating other foods without the fear of being forced to go hungry if they reject it.
Other neurodivergent children in our lives have vastly different needs when it comes to food, and there’s no one-size-fits-all solution. But if your kid is living on chips, and that’s what keeps them fed and happy, you’re doing a good job.
What matters most is keeping their distress levels low and ensuring mealtimes don’t become a source of trauma.
What’s Your Experience?
Do you have any tips or tricks that work for your family during mealtimes? I’d love to hear how you’ve tackled food struggles—drop a comment below!
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