About seven years ago, I read Fast Food Nation. It was a watershed book for me. I boycotted fast food. I was appalled by the companies' treatment of their employees, disgusted by the description of what was in the food and how the animals were treated, and frankly I realized I'd be better off not eating that crap anyway. And so.
Fast forward to today. I'm just beginning to catch my breath after a tidal wave of illness swept through my house. There were headcolds, brochiolitis, pneumonia, and a nasty stomach bug. Gus is back to his cheery self, but Jack is still terrified of vomiting, and won't eat much of anything. In a desperate attempt to entice him to get some calories and protein into his body, I took the boys to a fast food place. There, Jack ate most of a hamburger, some fries, and a little bit of milkshake. He ate! But it was crap food.
The angel on my shoulder says it's ok, he got some sort of sustenance. The angel doesn't think they'll form any wonderful associations to the place or the food. There was no play place; they just enjoyed calling out the colors of cars they saw in the parking lot as they ate. But the devil... well the devil on my other shoulder has been giving me grief all day about compromising my convictions.
Sigh. My sister will have a field day with this when she finds out. I've sternly told her in no uncertain terms that my boys were not to have fast food. Until today, anyway. And I'm the one who took them!
It's amazing how motherhood can soften the iron of long-held convictions in the name of doing what's best for your child. Was giving them crap food the best thing? No, probably not. But it was the best solution I could come up with at the time, and it worked for what it's worth.
Now I just need to figure out what to feed Jack tomorrow. 'Cause we're not going back there.