Every day you hear about people going on diets and trying to reduce their fat intake, but I have the opposite problem.

Not with me, unfortunately, but with Toddler, whom I am always running around after, trying to get food down his neck. He, alas, wants none of it and seems to be concerned even at this fragile age with keeping his trim figure trimmer.

A typical Toddler day goes as follows: he wakes up, skips breakfast and lunch, and then when starvation levels are at their peak, he screams and screams and lays on the floor and holds his breath until his grandma rushes out to the corner shop and buys him packets of Skittles which he munches contentedly until he falls asleep - still with sweeties in his mouth.

When he was born I vowed that he would not be one of those children with brown, jagged teeth who eat jam sandwiches and chocolates and crisps for their dinner and drink Coke out of a milk bottle till they are about 30. But oh no, I wasn't allowed to be cruel to be kind. Not giving him sweets was perceived as being a crime against childhood. "A childhood without sweets," said somebody once, "Is like a picnic without a hamper - pointless."

At that stage, Toddler's diet was reasonably well-balanced. I don't mean that he ate a mixture of protein, fat, and carbohydrates - I mean that he used to play with it on the see-saw in the park (a tactic I unsuccessfully tried).

"At least he eats fruit," I thought, five minutes before he threw up and refused to ever touch a banana again.

Children are so stubborn. You cannot imagine them to be coerced into doing anything. You implore, coax, beg, threaten, bribe but oh no, it just doesn't work. It would be much easier to negotiate with armed terrorists or sort out a peace deal in the Balkans than get an underweight three foot mini-creature with a love of jelly babies and Rugrats to do anything your way.

You see other mums with their children guzzling down food - the children not the mums - and you think, if only. You stop dreaming of Hollywood, fast cars and fame and fortune. You read about child prodigies who can read when they are born and are millionaires in their teens: you also want your child to wake up one morning and do the most amazing thing - eat some breakfast.

You spend a fortune on cookery books and try out fantastic recipes. You are up till midnight making star shaped samosas and Chucky-shaped chapatis but to no avail.

You go to the chemists looking for a tonic which might perk up your tot's appetite. "All mums say that their children don't eat," says the pharmacist, trying to be helpful, while an army of mothers walk in and buy three tons of baby food between them.

The health visitor comes round and is very concerned. About you. "Don't worry," she says, "children who are growing normally must be getting enough food," and then watches Toddler as he runs me ragged and jumps off the steps and makes a big mess and plays and has a good time. "He's a tough little cookie," she adds.

Oh yes, I reply, I just wish he would eat one.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.