Feeding Albert is… well. It’s a journey.
Every meal, every snack, every “maybe he’ll try this today” moment—it’s all a gamble. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it ends with him shaking his head like I just served him a plate of nails. No explanation. Just nope.
And you know what? I get it. Kinda. Food isn’t just food for him. It’s a whole experience. The feel, the texture, the sound—yes, the sound—of food matters just as much as the taste.
Like, you ever notice how crunchy foods are… reliable? The same every time? That’s why he loves them. But hand him something mushy, something with mixed textures, something that looks different from what he expected? Forget it. Not happening.
That’s actually how we started realizing something was up. Before we even had the word autism floating around, we had food battles that made zero sense. It wasn’t pickiness. It was something else. And then you start reading, and suddenly it clicks—oh. This is a thing.
The “Please Eat Something Other Than Crackers” Struggle
Here’s the thing—he still needs to eat. Obviously. But how do you balance nutrition with not making every meal a battlefield?
You get sneaky. You get creative. You break all those parenting rules you swore you’d follow.
- New foods? Yeah, they don’t just appear on his plate like a surprise party. They get introduced sloooowly. Sitting next to something safe. No pressure.
- No sudden changes. If he likes a food, it has to stay exactly the same. No swapping brands. No new seasoning. No “fun twist on the usual.”
- Hiding nutrients like a criminal. Blend the veg into sauces. Fortify whatever you can. If he doesn’t notice, it counts. If he does… well. Nice try.
And yeah, apparently this is a legit strategy. Studies back it up. But honestly, I don’t care about the studies. I care about what actually works.
The Emotional Side (a.k.a. Why This Can Be Soul-Crushing)
Look. Some days, I handle it. I stay patient. I remember the sensory stuff. I nod like, yes, yes, I understand, you cannot eat that banana because it touched the yogurt.
Other days? I just wanna scream.
Because there is nothing more frustrating than spending time—energy—effort—on a meal, only to have him take one look at it and refuse. Not even try. Just a hard, emotionless nope.
And after enough nights like that, you start wondering if it’s even worth it.
Then, out of nowhere—when you least expect it—he tries something new. Maybe just one bite. Maybe he actually eats it. And suddenly, you feel like a damn magician.
Tiny wins. That’s what we live for.
Find Your People.
If you’re dealing with this too? Find other parents who get it.
Because unless you’ve been there—really been there—you don’t get it. You don’t understand the stress, the exhaustion, the weird victories, the nights where you just give up and throw some crackers on a plate because you can’t do another fight.
Talk to people. Share what works. Try things. Fail. Try again. Laugh about it when you can.
The Long Game
This isn’t gonna be “fixed.” He’s not waking up one day suddenly eating a balanced diet with no issues. This is a process. Some days we push. Some days we don’t. Some days we say, fine, eat the damn crackers, we’ll try again tomorrow.
Low expectations. High-fives for tiny victories. And a lot of hoping that, one day, maybe, he’ll eat something green without it being smuggled into his food like a top-secret mission.
But if not? Whatever. We’ll deal. We always do.