Thanksgiving Food Fight

***Another old column that's also a favorite!***

Sumptuous aromas wafting from the kitchen. A majestic turkey poised on a platter. A whole stick of butter snatched off the table and gobbled in 30 seconds flat.

Welcome to Thanksgiving with the Martins.

Here's the backstory on that butter incident, which happened last year. We'd all gathered around the dining room table, offered thanks for our food and for each other, and proceeded to the buffet. All except for Paige, then 9 years old.

Per my instructions, my daughter, who has autism, remained at the table while I filled her plate, a system that served us well at holiday celebrations. This time when I returned with her meal, I could tell in an instant something was amiss.

Paige looked as if she'd applied great gobs of shimmering lip gloss from the tip of her nose down to her chin. When I spied the empty butter dish beside her napkin, everything made sense. My daughter the food predator had struck again.

If you're eating with Paige, don't watch your back: Guard your plate. She routinely astonishes us with the skill and swiftness of such sneak attacks. Look the other way, and your muffin has vanished; abandon a cookie for a split-second, and it's as good as gone. With the stealth of a sniper, she swoops in with nary a crumb as evidence of her offense.

The whole situation still makes me shake my head, particularly when considering that from ages 3 to 6, Paige ate only five foods. Back then if you offered her anything besides a banana, waffle, cheeseburger, French toast, or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, she would turn up her nose and flee the scene. Out of concern for her nutritional well-being, I began sprinkling ground-up vitamins on her PB&J. All the while, our pediatrician and developmental therapists assured us that Paige's culinary horizons would eventually expand. They did – along with her the circumference of her tummy.

Paige's relentless pursuit of all things sweet and sticky finally forced us into action. My dad installed a lock on our pantry door. We started hiding cereal boxes and granola bars in the loftiest kitchen cabinets. Any tempting leftovers headed straight to the fridge in the garage.

Still, a girl must eat, so every meal we work on moderation and manners. We have seen our share of successes, too. Paige uses a fork, spoon and napkin correctly and without complaint. Most nights, she'll sit with us for the duration of dinner rather than doing the old grab-and-go. She also generally behaves well in restaurants and her school cafeteria, especially when reminded to slow down and savor the food in front of her.

Curbing her urge to overindulge, however, continues to test our collective resolve. Paige pays little attention to warnings of a stomach ache; she shakes off our assertions that she's eaten enough. At least she seems to understand the new house rule: Under no circumstances can she filch food off someone else's plate. And though her record remains less than perfect, we can now go for days without the issue consuming much time or effort.

For the moment, we have achieved a détente in our daily food fight. And for that, we definitely give thanks.


Lisa Martin is a lifestyles columnist for The Dallas Morning News.