I was way more careful with my big girl. I never used food as a reward. Hugs and kisses, yes. A cup of yogurt or a bite or two of ice cream — never. I understood the dangers, of course. Still do. Equating food with anything other than nutrition starts a child down a slippery slope that ends with obesity or an eating disorder, according to researchers and child psychologists. It connects food to emotion. It places too much importance on food. And it definitely makes it harder to get the kid to do the desired behavior without food being involved.

I’m doing it, though, because she’s too thin, according to my doctor. Regular readers will remember that last month we had that whole well visit scare where the doctor told me that my little girl didn’t gain any weight and that she needed to see at least a pound gain by the next well visit. I’ve been trying to get her to eat more, but it’s hard. She doesn’t like to stay still for very long. Why take the time to stop and eat when there are so many more interesting things you could be doing? So I started offering bribes. “Please eat your potatoes? If you eat your potatoes I’ll give you a cup of yogurt.” And she’d eat the potatoes.

I know I need to stop. I know it. Kids should want to eat their scrambled eggs with mozzarella omelets without the need for a strawberry or banana chaser. They should welcome a sunflower butter and jelly sandwich even if there’s no cookie for dessert. But I’m afraid to stop — at least until June 30th when we have our next well visit. And then? I have a feeling going cold turkey is going to hurt her — and me. Sigh

This post links me into Real Food Wednesdays, a real food movement taking place across the Web. Check out some of my fellow bloggers by clicking through.

Okay, maybe it’s not the writer in me. Maybe it’s the part of me that likes to be liked that prevents me from doing a Wordless Wednesday. After all, photos are extremely subjective. They are what they are, but not really. You can infer a lot from a photo. You tend to blend your own experiences with what you’re looking at to create your opinion.

For example, I was going to post a photo of me feeding Big Girl a bottle. The breastfeeders in the audience might immediately form a negative opinion. That baby is only two-months-old, you might think. Why isn’t she nursing? The dads might be bored. Nothing interesting here. The people without kids might click immediately away. Those who are dealing with infertility might also click away, but for a different reason. And those who know me well might feel like they wasted their time, too. They’ve seen that photo already. Probably five years ago, actually. Who cares?

I guess the interesting part of my fear of Wordless Wednesday is that it proves without a doubt that I am someone who needs to be liked. Yes, I’ve talked about it before on this blog. Nothing new here, either. But maybe what is new is the fact that you now all see how the inner workings of my mind go. Maybe you didn’t realize just how deep the fear goes. Now those of you who are my friends understand why I sometimes have difficulty hanging out with you alone. I am still so insecure that I feel I might be boring or say the wrong thing. It’s also why I work so hard. I can’t be a regular writer. I have to be Super Writer, with as many assignments as physically possible. For those who don’t know me as well: It’s why I always say I will help, even if I don’t have the bandwidth. (And in my defense, I am much, much, MUCH better at saying nothing so I don’t disappoint.) It’s why I will go out of my way to do an online radio show even though I have two back-to-back interviews immediately following and my daughter’s Daisy troop meeting, which I am running myself, immediately before. It’s why I make sure I am tweeting a lot. (People tend to unfollow when you’re silent for a while. An unfollow is a tangible reminder that someone doesn’t like you anymore.)

Okay, so here’s the deal. This week I am going to take a new photo. Something that means something to me and me alone. And I am going to post it next Wednesday. An online therapy of sorts. Get ready, readers. I’m starting to break out of my shell!