Just Desserts

Talie is exactly two bites into her turkey burger when the "What's for 'zert?" question pops up. Matt and I fend her off, explaining for the umpteenth time that dinner comes first, and that if there's still room in her belly when she's done, we'll talk. Her sister Caitlin's plate is clean about 30 seconds later, at which point she chimes in, "Ready for dessert, Mom."

We do our best to keep Ben & Jerry in the red around here and there's only me to blame. I have a sweet tooth more fitting for Hagrid, the resident Hogwarts giant. My dad — who finished 9 out of 10 meals with an XL bowl of ice cream topped with chocolate sauce back in the day where fat, sugar, and obesity weren't making weekly headlines — may have set the example. I haven't done much to squash it.

I want my kids to enjoy the sweeter side of life, but it's time for some restraint and moderation. Our older girls have always been slim since birth, but Talie is more linebacker than willow.

At her last check-up, our pediatrician startled me with the news that her BMI numbers sit on the border of acceptable and unacceptable. That grabbed my attention.

It also woke me up to the fact that even though Caitlin and Ellie can get away with unlimited dessert, it's probably not the best habit to send them into adolescence and adulthood with.

So the plan is to rotate some less-damaging choices to end the meal for half the nights of the week. So far our list includes gingersnaps, fig bars, frozen yogurt sticks, bananas and apples dipped in chocolate syrup, and gingerbread.

And no one was more surprised than me to find that doling out two marshmallows or a smatter of chocolate chips qualifies as dessert in their minds.

Now if I can just re-wire my own cravings in time to keep modeling a better example, there may be hope that, unlike me, when they hit the high school cafeteria they'll opt for wraps and yogurt over chocolate shakes and saucer-sized molasses cookies.