The Goldfish Hater

My son eats healthier meals than I do, I admit.  As a new mom, I was hyper-vigilant: when he was first eating solid foods, I gave him only organic vegetables and fruits, and when he graduated to snacks, he had HappyBaby organic puffs instead of Cheerios (what's wrong with Cheerios, anyway? I grew up on Cheerios...).   Over time, I relaxed both my attitude and my vigilance and started to give him foods that weren't crunchy-mom-approved.  Like Goldfish.

Living in Austin, the Whole Foods capital of the world, this could be akin to committing a misdemeanor.   

However, my friends run the spectrum from vegan to "anything goes" and I'm quite happy to share a table with any of them.  No one judges; no one makes any comments about what we are bringing to dinner.  In a discussion with a vegan friend, I talked about how difficult it would be to be a vegetarian in my family even if I wanted to, and she suggested that my husband might be willing to try it.  I laughed and shook my head.

"No chance in hell," I said.  "His family raises cattle and drills for oil in west Texas - vegetarianism is the 'V word' out there."

We continued on with our girls' night out; she with hummus and pita and me with cheese and wine.

I was discussing this post with a friend of mine and we talked about the different ways we've adapted.  From "No TV" to "Yes, you can watch DocMcStuffins now".  From "no disposable diapers!" to "we're on vacation and I am NOT washing these things in the sink".

"You start off with the best intentions, and then you realize that your best intentions are not necessarily going to affect the quality of her life," my friend said.  "Sometimes we get hung up on the little things and forget about the big picture." 

Not everyone is so accepting or adaptable, however, and one day at swim class with my son, we inadvertently stumbled across a health food fascist.   My son was happily eating vanilla cupcake-flavored Goldfish (if you haven't tried them yet, don't - they're addictive) after a successful swim class.   During class, the teacher hands out one m&m or a gummy bear to the kids near the end of class as a reward.  Since my son doesn't like gummy bears or chocolate at this point, we do Goldfish. 

Let me paint the scene for you:  a woman approaches the changing counter and sits her young son next to mine to get ready for their swim class.  She appears nice enough - her hair is wrapped in a colorful cloth headband, she has a swirling tattoo on her upper arm, and she's wearing sandals - and I smile in their direction.  

Her kid points at my son, who is holding his shiny blue bag of deliciousness, and asks his mother, "What's he eating?"

The mother says nothing.  Her son repeats his question, more insistently this time.

I say, with a friendly smile, "They're Goldfish!"

Mother, not looking my direction, says pointedly, "We don't know anything about those."

Trying to salvage the moment, I say to the little boy, seeing the dinosaurs on his shirt, "What do you eat for snacks, young man? Dinosaurs?"

"Yeah. SPINACH dinosaurs," his mother says, and glares in my direction.

Um... ok, I mutter. We're going to go over here and eat our artificially-flavored snacks now. 

Organic Food Police, come and arrest me now.  Can I bring my Goldfish?