For the child who eyes anything new with deep suspicion.
Mealtimes with a fussy eater can grind a family down. The same three foods on repeat, the suspicion of anything green, the standoff over a single pea. Most children go through a fussy stage, and the more pressure that goes on the plate, the more firmly they tend to dig in.
Books take the heat out of it. Reading about food, laughing about food, meeting a character who also refuses everything, all of it is exposure without pressure, and a child who giggles about vegetables at bedtime is a little more likely to poke at one tomorrow. That’s all you’re after: curiosity rather than a battle.
Here’s what I’d reach for. Find your child’s age and start there.
0–3
Toddlers
Making food friendly
For the very youngest it’s about making food familiar and fun on the page, long before it lands on the plate.
The caterpillar eats his way through a glorious variety of food before becoming a butterfly, and the die-cut pages make it a joy for little fingers. It gets a toddler naming and noticing all sorts of foods without a scrap of pressure. About as gentle an introduction to food as exists, and beloved everywhere.
Fruit and vegetables from A to Z, boldly illustrated and simply named, so a child meets kiwi and kale and everything in between on the page first. Familiarity really does help a wary eater, and this is exposure with zero pressure. Good for pointing at and chatting about together.
Lola refuses practically everything, so her brother Charlie renames the food, carrots become orange twiglets from Jupiter, and suddenly it’s all rather appealing. It’s very funny, and it hands a parent a genuinely useful trick: playfulness beats pressure every time. A favourite in fussy-eating households.
The most famous refusal in children’s literature, in which a character insists he won’t like it anywhere, with anyone, until he finally tries it and does. The rhythm makes it enormous fun to read aloud, and the point lands without a word of nagging: you can’t know until you’ve tasted it. Read it for the laughs, not the lesson.
By this age the refusing is less about the food itself and more about who gets to decide. These are stories rather than lessons, and they are frankly disgusting in places, which is exactly why they work.
Billy takes a bet to eat fifteen worms in fifteen days and sets about it with proper method. It is revolting and very funny, and children who will not try an unfamiliar potato read it with total commitment. Nobody in it is trying to teach anybody a lesson about eating.
John Midas lives on sweets and almost nothing else, until everything he puts in his mouth turns to chocolate, including several things he would much rather it did not. A King Midas retelling with a light hand and no lecturing. Good for a child living on beige food, as long as it arrives as a story.
By this age most children have stopped being persuaded by anybody, and a bit of involvement in the food tends to go further than a conversation about it does. Helping with a meal now and then, or picking what the family eats one night, is usually enough. If a child’s eating has narrowed a great deal rather than simply staying picky, that is one to raise with a GP rather than with a book.
More than a hundred recipes, every one of them tested by children, with photographs of each technique and a proper section on knives and kitchen safety. It teaches cooking rather than simply listing recipes, which is the difference that matters. A child who has made something is a great deal more likely to eat it.
Jingwen has moved countries, cannot make the language work, and starts secretly baking his way through the cake menu his father never got to open a shop with. Food is the whole spine of the book rather than a lesson inside it, and it is very funny about a maddening younger brother. His father has died before the story starts.
Ellie has cerebral palsy, a sharp tongue and a genuine obsession with baking, and she writes letters to television bakers about it. Nobody in it is being coaxed into eating anything. It is simply a book where food is exciting, which is sometimes the more useful thing to put in front of a child.
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Something to do together
A try-a-bite printable is on its way
A no-pressure chart for exploring a new food, looking at it, smelling it, touching it, and only tasting it if they fancy. I’m making it now, and it will live here soon.
One last thing
Fussy eating is far more often a stage than a problem, and it tends to ease fastest when the pressure comes off. Books help because they make food interesting somewhere other than the dinner table, where nobody’s watching to see if they eat it.
So keep offering without insisting, let them see you enjoying the same food, and try not to let mealtimes become a battleground. If your child’s eating is very restricted, or you’re worried about how they’re growing, your doctor can put your mind at rest or point you to further help.
These pages are written for the grown-ups looking after a child: parents, teachers and carers. A good book can sit beside a worried child, though it never stands in for a real conversation, or for proper support when something feels too big to carry alone.
Chosen by Georgia Clare, author, bibliotherapist and mother of two, for Book Quote Therapy.