I’ve been writing this blog for a couple of years now, and theres only so many baby/toddler/preschool straight up food posts I can write. I kinda boxed myself into a corner with the subject matter. So if you don’t mind terribly, from time to time I may write about something else. Probably food, or parenting, or health and nutrition based – I won’t stray too far. I did this before here, shortly before I had Theo I’ve done some guest posting in my time, most notably here on the fabulous MindTheBaby blog.
Given my last post was about the cooking of the flesh, I thought the following exchange was worth recounting. I don’t cook meat, I don’t touch it where possible. In my 17 years as a vegetarian, and my 10 years with meat-eatin’-Mark, I’d say the most I’ve done it turn a rasher on the grill for him. And for the child, I’ve put some cooked turkey in a sambo. Okay, I didn’t ‘cook’ any flesh with the croquettes, I opened the tin of tuna, but sheesh, that was rotten enough. And no, not baby steps…this is not something that will be progressing!
I’m not forcing my ways on anyone, but I’ll raise kids more accustomed to cooking tofu & lentils than burgers & sausages (unless they’re Lovely Linda McCartney’s), and then they can make their own call.
So, the other night, we were reading the gorgeous ‘Where The Wild Things Are’
DOM ‘We don’t chase dogs’.
ME ‘No we don’t. Not dogs or cats or any animals. We have to be nice to animals.’
ME ‘Mammy is so nice to animals she doesn’t even eat them.’
DOM ‘I don’t eat animals.’
ME ‘Yes you do.’
DOM ‘No I don’t.’
ME ‘Yes, mammy doesn’t eat animals, but Daddy and Dominic do.’
DOM ‘No we don’t!’ (*giggles likes eating animals is the maddest thing on earth which it is*)
It struck me that though chicken meat is called chicken, and turkey called turkey, and most fish flesh generically called fish, that wee Dominic may not have made the small ‘from farm to fork’ leap required in his mind. He poked the bacon that came with his french toast in a restaurant the other day and though he knew it was a rasher of sorts, he asked me “What’s in this mammy?”
Where will this lead dear readers? Where will this lead…