The girls love animals. They get so excited to see cats, dogs, birds, and squirrels in the neighborhood. And all their favorite books are animal-themed. We read what seems like 100 animal books every day. The girls love to look at the pictures and make the accompanying baby sign.
On what should be a separate note, the girls are long-standing fans of fruits and vegetables, as well as eggs and cheese. Over the past couple of months, I have also incorporated one serving of meat a day into their diet.
I was caught a little off guard a week or so ago when I was bringing the girls’ supper to the table. “First, we’re going to have chicken,” I said in as scrumptiously tempting of a voice as possible. Baby A commenced to flapping her “wings” and nodding her head. “Yes, chicken!” I encouraged her, but with a silent feeling of dread.
How long before the girls put two and two together?
Will they be horrified to realize that Mommy has baked the fluffy little chicken from the sweet farm story and served it to them in bite-size pieces? Will their protein intake eventually narrow to meatballs, which I will cleverly describe as originating from the meatball tree, should they ask?
Or maybe I’m jumping ahead of myself.
I know I was at least three when I am storied to have asked my mom what they did with the chickens after they cut their legs off (since drumsticks were a childhood favorite of mine). She told me they went to a special farm for handicapped animals.
I don’t know how old I was when I learned there really wasn’t such a farm. But judging from my non-vegan diet, I don’t guess I was too scarred by the realization...