A Hamburger in Hamburg, French Toast in France

Of all of the reasons we travel with our children, exposing them to new experiences ranks pretty high, if not at the top. So on our most recent trip, when I noticed our youngest child choosing burger after burger after burger, I admit I panicked a little. She was eating at least one a day, often two! Lunch, dinner, snacks. Any time we asked what she would like to eat, the answer was “cheeseburger.”

My first instinct was to forbid her to order another bacon cheeseburger; however, I quickly rethought that plan. A hangry kid (especially this hangry kid) is more than I wanted to deal with while trying to navigate a foreign country. In that moment of pause, I noticed something about the burger Thing 3 was eating. The cheese was some sort of local Danish cheese, the bacon was really ham and the remains of a mild cabbage slaw were clinging to the top bun, the rest having been scraped off and left to the side, carefully away from the french fries, which also bore little resemblance to the fries she would typically get at a burger place at home. They were thick, hand cut and tasted distinctly of potato, a food she refuses to eat on a normal day.

A Bacon Cheeseburger in Copenhagen - the most "typical” looking one she ate

I realized that she was having a new experience. Maybe not as much as if she had chosen a Smørrebrød (the Danish open-faced sandwich Thing 2 was devouring), but a new experience none-the-less. Thing 3 is cautious and careful. She thinks before she speaks and hangs back while the others rush in. She may not have been brave enough to select the pickled herring, but she didn’t balk at the slightly odd-looking burgers she was handed at every new restaurant. She sized them up, shoved off any offending toppings and dug in.

A Bacon Cheeseburger in Hamburg - with olives and pickles on the side?!?!

In that moment, I made a decision to celebrate her choices instead of chastising them. I stopped encouraging her to consider another food. In a few days, I noticed something else. She had moved on. No longer was every meal a burger. She was eating meatballs, smoked salmon sandwiches, beef stew (off my plate) and a range of other, slightly more adventurous choices. The burger days were over. She will never be my most adventurous child, but she is definitely eating her way around the world on her own terms.

A Bacon Cheeseburger (and fries and a mozzarella stick) in Gothenburg, Sweden

I also realized that taking a breath and letting it go is pretty much the only way to successfully travel with children, no matter what you’re facing. So go forth boldly into the unknown. Or go forth timidly into the slightly unfamiliar. But go. And take your children with you.

Twilight (and a kid-free walk) in Copenhagen