Confessions of an Addicted Toddler

The year is 1978. A young couple with their first born are driving through the Virginia countryside. It’s Saturday morning and the weekend offers a chance to spend time with friends in a neighbouring town. The toddler in the back seat is singing to himself and looking out the window. All seems serene until the young couple get a glimpse of something that will derail the morning, perhaps the entire day. Nervously the mother, who’s not driving, looks back to see if the child has noticed. There is a small chance that she can district him long enough for the danger to pass.

No such luck on this occasion. The toddler starts screaming and pointing. When the father drives past the sign ("There was no exit, son, maybe next time"), the screaming increases in intensity. Finally the couple have a quick conversation and decide to give in. “OK Sameer, we’re going back. Just stop screaming please.”

The sign was the famous golden arches.

When I was little my parents had to find routes that did not include McDonald’s signs or anticipate where those signs would be and try to distract me. On the occasions when they failed, they had a temper tantrum on their hands. I demanded to go to McDonald’s. My demands were difficult to ignore, as anyone who’s tried to reason with a toddler (or with an addict) could tell you.

When I got to McDonald’s what did I want? The hotcakes. 100% of the time. With butter and syrup.

Now I’m not sure of the policies in McDonald’s today, but back in the 1970s McDonald’s would stop serving hotcakes at around 10 or 11 in the morning. So if we arrived after this magical window of time, my parents would have the added pleasure of the temper tantrum continuing until some kind of food came out.

Failing hot cakes, they knew french fries were the best bet. Why? Sugar was the drug I was after. If I couldn’t get it directly though pancakes and syrup, the carbohydrates in french fries (which are basically just longer chains of sugar molecules) were the next best thing.

Does any of this sound familiar? Have you raised a child who was an addict? Were you one yourself? 

Now I don't point all this out to blame parents or children. We all are encouraged by the cultures we grew up in to treat sugar differently than we would other drugs.

But sugar and refined carbohydrates light up the brain in exactly the same way that cocaine or other narcotics do. Most of us introduce these foods to children before they can walk.

The events I’m describing happened 45 years ago, but the addiction would stay with me. When I encountered stressful situations, for example when there was a fire in our house and we had to suddenly move, I became more of an addict. And once you’ve learned that drugs make difficult situations more tolerable, you’re more likely to use other drugs as well. In my case it was cigarettes; for others it might be opioids.

While it was possible for me to give up smoking, it’s been much more difficult for me to give up carbohydrates. This is a drug I grew up with, a drug that was socially acceptable and a drug that is still pushed heavily at every social gathering.

They say an addict is always in recovery, and carb addiction is no different. I’ve decided that it’s time to take another step forward. In a week’s time I’ll be launching a Healthy Habits Challenge on Facebook. It’s free so if you'd like to make your habits a bit healthier, please join me. My personal goals are going to be about ending my carb addiction, but you can set your own goals as well. 

Addiction is rampant in our society. I've written elsewhere about why that is and what it says about our modern cultures. At the individual level the important thing is to understand that we don't have to be imprisoned by old habits that aren't serving us. We can cultivate new habits that help us become the healthier and happier version of ourselves that we were meant to be.

Ultimately those hotcakes weren't making me happy then and they certainly don't make me happy today. I was allowing myself to be controlled by the dopamine, by the short-term rewards of pleasure rather than something deeper and more meaningful. And if I continue prioritising pleasure, I may risk losing my happiness for the sake of the dopamine hit. There is a better way - a more deliberate, a more meaningful way - to live.