I had pulled the bag of french fries out of the freezer for the main reason of checking the calorie/fat/fiber count to record on my Weight Watchers tracking for the day. I hadn't been able to resist stealing 10 of my kids shoestring fries at dinner (just so you know one serving of Cascasdian Farms Shoestring Fries is only 2 points!)
Owen saw me holding the bag and even though he had eaten them for dinner he asked for the first time, "Safe for me?"
Max had always had great awareness of his allergies and by age two would bring me things and say "Mommy, read label?" But Owen has not shown the same awareness (or restraint) when it come to food. So I was quite proud that he seemed to be exhibiting an awareness of his own food allergies. "Yes" I replied "These are safe for you."
Showing posts with label Owen's psyche. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Owen's psyche. Show all posts
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Owen Has No Sense of Self Preservation
He is standing 10 feet away from me as I talk an injured Max into rejoining his gymnastics class. My back is turned for such a short time and he is just watching a Baby Einstein video on a portable DVD player which another mother has brought for her daughter. As I turn back around what is it I yell? "Owen!" or "No!" or "Oh my God!". I don't exactly recall.
There in his hand, touching his lips is one of those little pretzel sandwich things. What is in the middle?
"He's allergic." I say pulling him to face me.
"It's just cheese!" the mother replies, her face concerned, contrite.
"He's allergic to milk." I say.
"I am so sorry!" she says "I think he only got part of the pretzel."
The sandwich does appear whole. No hives on Owen. Caught in the nick of time.
Honestly, even when Max was younger than two, he did not accept food from anyone but me. He did not pick up food and just eat it. I always thought he had such a great sense of self-preservation. He always just seemed to know. I swear some of his first words were "Read label?" It was a blessing for him to be so conscientious and a curse that food (sometimes even safe food) was considered the enemy.
Owen on the other hand has no sense of self-preservation. If it looks edible he is going to try it. Again, a blessing and a curse. A blessing that he will try and like so many foods, a curse because he doesn't seem to inherently know his boundaries like Max does.
There in his hand, touching his lips is one of those little pretzel sandwich things. What is in the middle?
"He's allergic." I say pulling him to face me.
"It's just cheese!" the mother replies, her face concerned, contrite.
"He's allergic to milk." I say.
"I am so sorry!" she says "I think he only got part of the pretzel."
The sandwich does appear whole. No hives on Owen. Caught in the nick of time.
Honestly, even when Max was younger than two, he did not accept food from anyone but me. He did not pick up food and just eat it. I always thought he had such a great sense of self-preservation. He always just seemed to know. I swear some of his first words were "Read label?" It was a blessing for him to be so conscientious and a curse that food (sometimes even safe food) was considered the enemy.
Owen on the other hand has no sense of self-preservation. If it looks edible he is going to try it. Again, a blessing and a curse. A blessing that he will try and like so many foods, a curse because he doesn't seem to inherently know his boundaries like Max does.
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