The organic fanatic

Robyn Harding | Image: Jupiter | Published: June 03, 2008

What’s a mother to do when her eight-year-old insists on a strictly organic diet?

As a mother of two growing children, I want to ensure that they eat a diet full of nutritious fruits and vegetables. And of course, I’d prefer that those fruits and vegetables weren’t sprayed with poisonous chemicals and pesticides. But the whole organic thing is so confusing. Is an organic carrot really healthier than a regular one? What if it’s not certified organic? Is that organic carrot worth a dollar when a regular carrot only costs 25 cents? And isn’t eating local more important anyway?

It stands to reason that eating bug-killer can’t be good for you, but when you factor in the price difference, well, how bad can it really be? Sure, the pesticides on that carrot can kill a bug, but even my eight-year-old is like, a thousand times the size of a bug. While I’d like to stick to an all organic diet, my kids are going to need braces one day and it would be nice to take the occasional vacation. So about a year ago, I decided that eating local would be my priority, followed by organic when it wasn’t too expensive. I thought I had arrived at the perfect solution. My son, Ethan thought differently.

I’m not sure where his pious attitude toward conventional fruits and vegetables developed. School? Playground chit-chat? Some hard-hitting documentary he’d seen about pesticides causing tumours in rats? I don’t know, but something had turned Ethan into an organic fanatic. Every morsel of food he put in his mouth was accompanied by the question: Is this organic? When the answer was “yes,” there was no problem. But when I had to answer “no,” I felt the need to justify my purchase.

“But it’s local, at least . . . It’s hot-house grown so it’s virtually pesticide free . . . The organic grapes were almost nine dollars a bunch!”

Ethan would grudgingly finish his meal, but with wan expression on his face that said, “When I have children, I won’t be too cheap to ensure they’re eating the healthiest option and protecting the planet for future generations.”

It got worse. He then went through a phase where he would pretend to projectile vomit every time he ate conventional food. “Is this organic?” he’d ask.

“No,” I’d ruefully reply.

“Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” He’d pretend to spew his cereal all over the table and then chuckle heartily

at his own joke. It was so much fun that it became constant.

“Is this juice organic?’

“No.”

“Bwaaaaaaaaaaaa!” he’d cry, then laugh his head off.

Luckily, the fake barfing eventually grew tiresome, even to a nine-year-old, but his pious attitude remained. This was nothing more than a minor irritant, until he took it outside the home.

We went to my nephew’s birthday party in North Vancouver. “Auntie Kerry?” Ethan asked my sister-in-law as he eyed the fruit and veggie platter. “Are these strawberries organic?”
“No, they’re not.”

“These carrots? This melon? These peppers?”

“Nothing’s organic, Ethan,” she said, a trace of annoyance in her voice. “You need to chill out on the organic thing.”

I saw a couple I didn’t recognize looking at Ethan with bewilderment. What’s wrong with that kid? they were wondering. Does he have an intense pesticide allergy? Does he come from some sort of commune?

“We live in Kitsilano,” I said.

“Ohhhhh.” They nodded knowingly.

When it was time for cake, Ethan lined up with the other kids. “Oh sorry,” Auntie Kerry said, “This cake’s not organic, Ethan. Are you sure you want some?”

Not surprisingly, he threw caution to the wind and had a huge piece.