Maya and the Market

By Melissa Harvey
Web Exclusive

Grocery shopping with my five-year-old is an arduous adventure. Never mind trying to read a list, locate items, check prices, and examine ingredients while shepherding her into a five-foot radius of the cart. My greatest challenge is maneuvering through the supermarket aisles without reaching a ten-minute deadlock in front of every marketable cartoon character, captivating color, and recognizable brand name that zealously recruits my child at eye-level with commercialized promise of scrumptious and delightful eating.

"Mommy, looook!" my daughter Maya pleads, braking our cart and pointing wildly. I half-expect to see a gazelle grazing in produce. Instead, I'm gazing at ketchup bottles splashed with screeching colors.

"Green is my favorite color!"

"Yes, I know how much you love green." One loud wail from behind and I know that she has been captured by the condiments.

"Maya, we have ketchup at home."

"But Mommy, this one is better!"

I put a bottle of ketchup in each hand. "Look, if you take away the pizzazz, all the colors and the words, what would you have? Ketchup. It's all just ketchup."

I press on. Skipping cart side, Maya adds, "My friend's mommy has this ketchup that you like squeeze and it draws!" I nod, displaying interest minus the enthusiasm.

We turn into the juice aisle. Cooing at the vista of cartoon characters, Maya bounces over to the display. Even I could barely resist the adorable creatures partaking in utopian play across the line of labels. I reach for organic juice delegated to the bottom shelf.

"This is the juice we get, remember?"

Determined to come away with a spoil from the bounty of drinks, Maya forfeits the juice dispute and moves on. She has identified that most popular and perennial of kid's drinks, the one featuring a 'Kool' animated pitcher, in a line-up of juice boxes.

"Mommy, can I get these? Remember you let me have one at my friend's birthday party?"

I remember the moment well. In the hush just after 'Happy Birthday' is sung and the cake is about to be cut, Maya received a drink box. She inspected it, looked up at me, and asked, "Mommy can I drink this?" I nodded yes. "But mommy," she chided, "doesn't this drink have CHEMICALS in it?" I turned a shade of red #40 as all eyes turned to me in a unified look of "Oh, one of those mothers."

Yes, I am one of those mothers. One of those mothers whose vocabulary includes words like 'food coloring,' 'genetically modified,' and 'preservatives.' I am that mother who groans and laments in the supermarket aisle while reading the ingredients of foods marketed directly to children. But, although it can be tedious and time consuming (sometimes even awkward when you have curious on-lookers), reading the ingredients of every questionable food item, out-loud, has become a valuable lesson in the constitution of shelf-food for both Maya and I. It has also allowed us to implement the simple line of reasoning that 'we don't put anything in our mouths that we can't identify' --- effectively thwarting many a toddler temper tantrum.

The cereal aisle is loaded with exotic ingredients to peruse that require a chemistry degree to pronounce. Maya stands at attention while I perform something akin to a roll call.

"Sugar?" Maya nods.

"Corn syrup?" Another nod from Maya.

"Hexametaphospate?"

"Mommy, what's that!"

I shrug and continue,"Sodium steoroyal? Lactylate?"

"Mommy, I can't believe I wanted to eat that!" Maya cries, plunking her palm to her forehead.

The verdict is in. The cereal has been found guilty of harboring alien elements. "Mommy, what about those?" Maya's attention has crossed the aisle and zoomed in on some 'fruit' snacks.

"Let's see!" I reply. The snack offers bold assurance of 100% vitamin C. Neither impressed nor impulsive, I turn the box over and read. The manufacturer's charitable inclusion of a vitamin supplement seems feeble when a child would need an arsenal of anti-oxidants to eliminate a hidden legion of food colorings, corn syrup, wax, and sulfating agents.

Another aisle, another impasse. Maya grabs jello off the shelf and admires the packaging that had effected immediate recognition. (Here's a clue, the jello was 'Blue.')

"Maya, come on now . . . you don't even like jello!"