The first night of Passover is in less than three weeks.

I am dreading it.

It’s not the cleaning or the clearing or the shopping or the schlepping that has me burying my head in the sand. It’s not the planning for, cooking for, or hosting the Seder. And it’s not even about giving up my beloved morning english muffin or lunchtime turkey sandwich.

I’m dreading Passover because of how hard it is to feed my daughter when bread, pasta, tortillas, and pizza are not on the menu. You see, the child generally subsists on variations of wheat and cheese, occasionally with a side of wheat.

My daughter is healthy. But she’s also, well, selective (ahem). She eats a variety of fruit and vegetables, and she’s not terribly interested in most sweets, desserts, and junk food. Unfortunately, she’s also not terribly interested in most chicken, fish, turkey, meat, potatoes, eggs, beans, tofu, cream cheese, quinoa, and rice— all of which I would happily feed her during Passover if she would eat it.

And when I say not interested, I mean this: with relatively few exceptions (which tend to be highly unpredictable, because, you know, kids), she will not eat any of those foods. There is no amount of bribery, negotiation, or threats that will get her to ingest them, and the harder I push, the harder she digs in her heels. We once spent nearly 20 minutes negotiating over one piece of quinoa. Not one bite, one piece. This, my friends, is what I like to call #InsaneParenting…

You can read the rest of my thoughts about feeding my children during Passover over at