When the smallest things prompt the most poignant reflection
Who knew a jar of peanut butter could stop me in my tracks?
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“Do we have chunky peanut butter?”
It was an ordinary question my husband asked one afternoon last year. He was standing in the kitchen, scanning the pantry, and thinking about sandwiches. But his question stopped me cold.
For 15 years, only smooth peanut butter filled our shelves. Not because we preferred it, or because anyone disliked chunky. It simply wasn’t an option for our late daughter, Cammy.
Cammy had Rett syndrome, a rare neurological disorder that affects nearly every aspect of motor control, including the ability to chew and swallow safely. Foods most families never think twice about required careful consideration in ours. Chunky peanut butter, with its small pieces and uneven texture, was a choking hazard. Smooth peanut butter was safe.
The benefits of smooth peanut butter
When Cammy was an infant and toddler enrolled in early intervention services, our days were filled with specialists — physical therapists, occupational therapists, dietitians, and speech-language pathologists. Feeding therapy was also a focus.
Children with Rett syndrome often struggle to maintain weight, frequently falling off neurotypical growth charts. Eating isn’t just nourishment; it’s work. Every bite demands coordination many of us take for granted. That’s when we learned that peanut butter could be more than just food.
Therapists explained that, as long as there were no allergies, smooth peanut butter was ideal for oral motor development. Its thick, sticky texture made Cammy actively use the muscles in her jaw, lips, and tongue. Clearing it from her mouth strengthened the coordination she needed for safer swallowing. It was therapy disguised as lunch.
The flavor helped distract her from the effort. While she enjoyed the taste, she was unknowingly practicing essential skills. Peanut butter also delivered much-needed calories in small amounts — an important advantage for children who tire easily while eating.
Before Cammy eventually required a feeding tube, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches became her favorite lunch. They were predictable, manageable, and comforting.
Our younger daughter, Ryan, grew up believing peanut butter came only one way. She never wondered why there wasn’t another jar on the shelf.
After Cammy died in late 2023, many of those routines persisted. Grocery habits remained. The pantry shelves stayed the same. So when my husband asked about chunky peanut butter, I realized something unexpected: I had never moved past that small adaptation. It represented therapy sessions at the kitchen table, careful planning, and countless small victories tucked inside ordinary days.
A jar of peanut butter seems insignificant. But sometimes, grief reveals itself in the smallest details: hesitation in a grocery aisle, a familiar brand, a question asked without knowing its weight.
Eventually, I bought the chunky peanut butter. Now, it sits beside the smooth jar — both sharing space in our pantry.
Note: Rett Syndrome News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Rett Syndrome News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Rett syndrome.
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