Olivia: Okay, Jackson. You get five words to review a baby weaning book. Go. Jackson: Broccoli on wall. Parent in tears. Olivia: Perfect. My five: It’s okay, just add cheese. Jackson: Ha! That’s a much more optimistic take. Mine is basically a cry for help. Most parenting books feel like they're written by people who have never met an actual baby. Olivia: Well, that’s what makes the book we’re diving into today so refreshing. It’s called Wean in 15 by Joe Wicks, and its entire philosophy is built around your five words, not mine. It acknowledges the chaos. Jackson: Wait, Joe Wicks? The Body Coach? The guy with the abs and the high-intensity workouts who got everyone through lockdown? I’m supposed to take parenting advice from a man who probably considers a single almond a cheat meal? Olivia: That’s the fascinating part! He’s the first to admit he’s not a pediatric nutritionist. He teamed up with a top-tier expert, a registered nutritionist named Charlotte Stirling-Reed, to make sure the science was solid. His motivation for writing it was purely his own experience as a new dad, feeling completely overwhelmed and realizing that all the pressure to be perfect was the actual problem. Jackson: Okay, that’s a bit more relatable. A fitness guru admitting he’s not an expert at something is a rare sight. It’s like a superhero saying, "Actually, I'm not great at opening jars." Olivia: Exactly. And that humility is the secret ingredient to the whole book. It’s less about creating a Michelin-star baby menu and more about surviving the food-flinging phase with your sanity intact.

Jackson: So what’s the big idea then? If it's not about creating a tiny health-obsessed human from day one, what is the philosophy? Just "chill out and hope for the best"? Olivia: It's a little more structured than that, but you're close. The core idea is what I'd call 'Relaxed Realism.' The book argues that the biggest obstacle in weaning isn't the baby's fussiness or a dislike of kale; it's parental anxiety. It’s the pressure we put on ourselves to do everything perfectly. Jackson: I can definitely relate to that. You see these Instagram parents with their perfectly portioned, rainbow-colored meals, and then you look at your own kitchen, which looks like a Jackson Pollock painting made of sweet potato. Olivia: Right! And Wicks builds his entire approach from a place of deep personal experience with that. He shares this incredibly vulnerable story about his own childhood nutrition. He grew up in the 80s on a diet of sugary cereals, fizzy drinks, and fast food. Jackson: Sounds like my childhood, honestly. A balanced meal was a burger with lettuce on it. Olivia: He talks about how that diet affected him—he was hyperactive, had a short attention span, and struggled in school. But here’s the crucial part: he tells this story with zero blame for his mom. He recognizes she was a young parent doing the absolute best she could with the knowledge and resources she had at the time. Jackson: Huh. That’s a really compassionate way to frame it. He's not saying his past was a trauma, but a data point. Olivia: Exactly. It became his 'why.' He wanted to give his kids, Indie and Marley, a different start. But because of his own background, his approach isn't about judgment or rigid rules. It's about empathy. It’s built on the quote he repeats throughout the book: "Just know it’s okay to not be perfect every day." Jackson: Okay, but let's be real. "It's okay not to be perfect" is a nice platitude. What does that actually look like when a baby has refused to eat anything but the corner of a napkin for two days straight? Olivia: The book translates that philosophy into practical advice. For instance, if a baby refuses food, the rule is: stay calm, take the food away without any fuss, and try again in an hour. No coaxing, no bargaining, no "one more bite for Daddy." You remove the pressure, which prevents mealtimes from becoming a battleground. Jackson: You’re taking away the audience for the drama. The baby is putting on a show, and you just walk out of the theater. Olivia: A perfect analogy. Another key point is about appetite. The book stresses that a baby's appetite can vary wildly from day to day, or even hour to hour. They might eat an adult-sized portion of porridge for breakfast and then eat nothing else until the next morning. Jackson: Oh, I’ve seen this. It’s terrifying. You’re convinced they’re going to waste away. Olivia: And Wicks says that’s normal. It’s driven by growth spurts, teething, tiredness, even how much they’ve been crawling around. The parent's job isn't to enforce a certain portion size, but to offer healthy food at regular intervals and trust the baby to regulate their own intake. This concept is called 'responsive feeding.' Jackson: So it’s like being a good bartender. You don't force a drink on someone; you just keep an eye on their glass and offer a refill when they look ready. Olivia: Precisely. It’s about reading cues, not enforcing a schedule. The whole philosophy is about lowering the stakes. He says, "Ultimately there is no right or wrong with weaning. There is no perfect blueprint or plan for all babies." That's a hugely liberating message for any parent who's ever felt like a failure because their kid hates avocado. Jackson: I think every parent has felt like a failure because their kid hates avocado. It feels like a personal rejection of your entire value system. Olivia: And Wicks is saying, maybe they just don't like the texture. Try mixing it into something else. Don't give up, but don't turn it into a war. The consistency of offering is more important than the perfection of any single meal.

Olivia: And that 'consistency over perfection' idea is most critical when you hit the two big walls of weaning: fear of choking and fear of allergies. Jackson: Okay, let's talk about that, because those are the two fears that keep parents up at night. You give your baby a piece of banana and suddenly you're imagining ambulance sirens. Olivia: The book tackles this head-on. First, it makes a very clear distinction between gagging and choking. Gagging is noisy, dramatic, and a normal part of learning to eat. The baby’s gag reflex is much further forward in their mouth than an adult's, which is a brilliant safety mechanism. They cough, they splutter, their eyes water, and then they either swallow the food or spit it out. Jackson: So gagging is the body’s bouncer, throwing out anyone who looks suspicious before they can cause real trouble. Olivia: Exactly. Choking, on the other hand, is silent. That’s when the airway is actually blocked. The book provides clear instructions on how to prepare food to minimize this risk—cooking things until they're soft, cutting grapes and cherry tomatoes lengthwise, avoiding whole nuts. But the core message is that choking is rare if food is prepped correctly, and the fear of it shouldn't stop you from offering finger foods. Jackson: That’s a tough hurdle to get over mentally. But the allergy fear is a whole different beast, because it’s so unpredictable. Olivia: It is. And this is where the book’s most powerful story comes in. Wicks tells the story of his daughter, Indie, and her first allergic reaction. They had already introduced peanut and almond butter with no issues. Then, one morning when she was about seven months old, they gave her a tiny bit of cashew butter on toast. Jackson: Oh no, I can feel the tension building. Olivia: Within minutes, she started rubbing her eyes and mouth. Her face started to swell up, and she was sick. It was a full-blown anaphylactic reaction. Jackson: Wow, that is literally every parent's worst nightmare. What did they do? Olivia: They stayed calm and called for an ambulance. Indie was taken to the hospital, and tests confirmed she had a severe allergy to cashews and pistachios. They were sent home with epi-pens and a whole new level of parental anxiety to manage. Jackson: I feel like after an experience like that, I would just feed my child boiled rice for the rest of their life. How do you come back from that? Olivia: This is the most important part of the story. The allergy specialist told them something crucial: do not stop introducing other allergens. In fact, they encouraged them to continue giving her other nuts, like ground hazelnuts and almonds, to prevent more allergies from developing. And they did. Jackson: That takes some serious courage. To go home from the hospital and then purposefully give your child another potential allergen. Olivia: It does. But it perfectly illustrates the book's practical, fear-busting approach. The advice is to introduce common allergens—like eggs, dairy, nuts, and fish—early, around 6 months. But you do it one at a time, in small amounts, during the day so you can watch for a reaction. The cashew story isn't a cautionary tale to scare you away from allergens; it's a real-world case study in how to handle the worst-case scenario and keep going. It’s about being prepared, not paranoid. Jackson: That reframes it completely. The goal isn't to avoid the risk, but to manage it intelligently. What about the other practical stuff? I’ve heard this term 'veg-led weaning'. Is that just a trendy way of saying 'make them eat their broccoli'? Olivia: Pretty much, but with a smart scientific reason behind it. The idea is to introduce savory and even bitter vegetables—like broccoli, cauliflower, and spinach—as the very first tastes. Babies have an innate preference for sweet flavors, because breast milk and formula are sweet. If their first solid foods are sweet fruits or sweet root vegetables like carrots, they might be less willing to accept the more challenging flavors later. Jackson: You’re training their palate from day one to accept that not everything in life is a banana. Olivia: You got it. You start with the bitter stuff for a week or two, and then you can start mixing in the sweeter veg and fruits. It’s a simple strategy to build a more adventurous palate long-term. And it all ties back to the final piece of practical advice: prep like a boss. The book is filled with recipes for batch-cooking and freezing. Because the best way to stay calm and consistent is to know you have a freezer full of healthy, ready-to-go meals. Jackson: So you’re not scrambling to steam a single floret of broccoli while the baby is having a hunger-induced meltdown. Olivia: You are prepared for the inevitable. It removes the daily decision fatigue and stress, which frees you up to actually, maybe, enjoy the process.

Jackson: It’s really clicking for me now. The book isn't a rigid set of rules at all; it's more like a mindset toolkit. It’s about arming yourself with just enough information—like how to cut a grape safely, what an allergic reaction looks like, and the logic of veg-led weaning—so you have the confidence to let go and let the messy, joyful process happen. Olivia: That’s the perfect summary. The book’s title, "Wean in 15," is a bit of a misnomer. It’s not about being done in 15 days. It’s about recipes that take 15 minutes, reflecting a philosophy of making things simple and sustainable. The profound insight is that your emotional state as a parent is the most important ingredient in your child's meal. Jackson: Your calm is the secret sauce. If you’re anxious and stressed, the baby picks up on that, and the meal becomes a source of tension. If you’re relaxed and having fun, they’re more likely to see food as an adventure. Olivia: Exactly. And if there's one concrete action the book champions above all else, it's to eat with your baby whenever you can. Let them see you enjoying a wide variety of healthy foods. You are their primary role model. They learn more from watching you enjoy a meal than they do from any lecture or perfectly balanced puree. Jackson: So the best way to raise a good eater is to be one yourself. It all comes full circle. Olivia: It does. So for anyone listening who's about to start this journey or is in the thick of it, maybe the first step isn't to buy a new blender, but to just take a deep breath. We'd love to hear from our listeners about their own weaning adventures or anxieties. What was the one piece of advice that actually helped you? Join the conversation on our social channels. Jackson: And please, share pictures of broccoli on the wall. It makes the rest of us feel so much better. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.