A recent study has emerged from the depths of science, claiming that the fussy eating habits our children could be down to genetic makeup.
Genes, otherwise known as what’s in yours, have long been the building blocks of the next generation, and too the wall of denial that protects parents from those truth bombs that threaten to knock the whole Duplo castle over. We’ve all been there, despite our best efforts, the board of fare is deemed not passable by the youngling, as the hawkish eyes of the childless restaurant set read vast criticism. But, surely it’s not our fault, is it?
Can we blame someone else?
As it turns out, we can! But it still sort of involves blaming ourselves; our DNA to be precise.
Those with serious faces, prescription sunglasses, and posters of J Robert Oppenheimer on their wall (scientists, not troubled teenage youth) have discovered that the long-held societal equation of “fussy-eating progeny = terrible parenting”totals in their calculators as ERROR. Andrea Smith from the University College London claims that “Establishing a substantial genetic influence on both of these traits might be quite a relief to parents as they often feel judged or feel guilty for their children’s fussy eating.”
Those who ran the study, somehow corralled the data of almost 2,000 sets of 16-month-old twins (lord), to examine the factors that birth fussy eating. The children were separated into two control groups, of identical and fraternal twins, as the parents were given a questionnaire asking pointy questions about dinner time. After the nervous sweaty hands of the parental units ceased scribbling, the researchers discovered that the individual environment and parenting were a factor, but seemingly less a factor than the intangible genetic factors.
The figures were computed thusly; around 58% of those polled could arguably place their resistance of new cuisine at the feet of their DNA, not in the hands of the parents. Of course, science from the mouths of babes will forever remain subjective, a tricky colt to lasso, but what we do know is the minds of the parents. For those, like myself, still clueless on the act of parenting, my progeny falls in the meaty part of that 58%.
It’s not his fault he doesn’t like Beef Wellington, it’s the family condition.
Naw. He’s making excuses already. Just like Dad.