Quotes About Childhood

One of the functions of traditional cuisines is to reinforce these shared childhood food memories.

At a certain point as a child, we notice that the food at home is not the same as the dinners our friends eat.

From childhood onwards, our idea of fullness is heavily influenced by how much food we are offered.

Though it was composed of shortening, corn syrup, colourings and other unwholesome ingredients, with a shelf-life so long it became the punchline of many jokes, for many the Twinkie was the taste of childhood. It was Proust's madeleine for the junk-food generation.

Candy bar nostalgia puts us all on the same page.

Have you noticed that when someone wants to express that something tastes extra specially wonderful, they will often invoke childhood?

Large numbers of adults as well as children have now become habituated to eating a version of 'kid food' over a whole lifetime: sweet, salty, undemanding to chew and swallow and heavily processed.

Much of what we learn about eating comes from the way our parents feed us.

Feeding, like eating, is a learned behaviour and the methods that most parents absorb for doing it are based on the values of former times when a child needed to be protected from scarcity rather than plenty.

It's seldom easy to change habits, particularly those so bound up with memories of family and childhood, but, whatever our age, it looks as if eating well is surprisingly teachable skill.

After all, as omnivores, we were not born knowing what to eat. We all had to learn it, every one of us, as children sitting expectantly, waiting to be fed.

Foodies trumpet their love of the hated vegetables of childhood: cauliflower and Brussel sprouts join beetroot as dinner party favourites.

Tie, kurus m?c nostal?ija p?c b?rn?bas, vienk?rši ilgojas p?c t? laika, kad par vi?iem r?p?j?s.

In one of Chekhov's short stories, a little boy is drawing a picture. His father asks him why the man in the picture is taller than the house. "If he were smaller," says the child reasonably, "you couldn't see his eyes." ENTRY:

Apparently this r had to be worked for: Varya told me that as a child she couldn't pronounce it properly, and that her father would make her repeat a series of exercises about gorgeous grapes growing on Mount Ararat and three hundred thirty-three drummers drumming on three hundred thirty-three drums.

stuffed toy from the ground and put it into

he could read Mia's mind.   Ian and Tatiana sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G   When they were children, everything could be boiled down to such simple sentiments.

Children expect their mothers to love them, no matter what. Those who don't get this tend to feel cheated the rest of their lives.

in that childhood room for whose warmth and safety we search all the rest of our lives and never find again.

Right from the start Abigail used to moan and fidget as her hair was relaxed or braided or thermally reconditioned, but her dad was determined that his child wasn't going to embarrass him in public. That all stopped when Abigail turned eleven and calmly announced that she had ChildLine on speed?dial and the next person who came near her with a hair extension, chemical straightener, or, God forbid, a hot comb, was going to end up explaining their actions to Social Services.

So I started to wonder if I actually could reenter the unicorn's world…at which point Sooz came into my head and the story just happened. It flowed. It was the exact opposite of my experience writing The Last Unicorn. I locked onto her voice, the voice of this nine-and-a-half-year-old girl who was telling the story from the first sentence, and I just followed her. It was one of the very rare occasions where I felt from beginning to end that I knew what I was doing.

Neither of us had lived in a house since we were kids; apartments, it turns out, are very different things, psychologically. Houses—especially old and creaky houses—are individuals, somehow; their fronts are faces, their closets are pants pockets.

Many parents aren't all that accustomed to being patient and present for their kids anymore, if only because they're simply not given the opportunity to be patient and present. Jobs get in the way. School gets in the way. After-school activities get in the way. As I have learned—as I am still learning—patience and presence are muscles that must be developed and exercised regularly.

the business of being a child in this country is rapidly disappearing into an abyss that consists not only of programs and tests but also of extracurricular activities.