The Turkey Trot
“Is it mean to kill turkeys and eat them?” was the question posed to me by my seven year-old meat-eating son. I describe him as a “meat eater” because I am not. I’m really not against the act of killing animals for food, I just believe that eating animals today (because of the way they are bred, fed and chemically enhanced) will kill you. Now, before you get upset because you are an animal lover and believe we should treat all animals with respect or because you are a proud omnivore who believes you are on the top on the food chain and can eat whatever you please, stop and take a deep breath, I’m talking to a curious first grader with a valid question about food.
One of the most common food complaints from parents is that their kids don’t eat their vegetables. I never worried about Azul not eating his veggies because he always has, and that is because I always have, there was never an option not to. We eat a lot of vegetables, I cook them and we eat them. He loves broccoli (a.k.a. little trees) and beets because they make him pee and poop red. Beets are the best. I’m telling you, red poop is hilarious!
He is very adamant that he is in fact a carnivore, and I’m okay with that because I do feed him meat. And I take as much care in my meat selections as I do with my vegetable choices. I always do giggle when he proclaims his manliness in being a meat eater, but then eats his veggies first, because we all know, real men eat veggies. There is nothing more emasculating than watching a man cower at the sight of lightly steamed cauliflower and gag as it goes down. Really!?!
So, back to the original inquiry: Is it mean to kill turkeys and eat them? My answer, like many of my answers to my son was formed as a question and sent right back to him.
“It depends on how you feel about turkeys, I guess?” I know, deep. I exude nothing but parental confidence. “If you really like turkeys and feel strongly that you shouldn’t eat them, then it could be seen as mean to kill them. Or if you’re hungry and like turkey, then it wouldn’t be mean at all, it’s food and you treat it that way. So, what do you think?”
“I think if your best friend was a pig you wouldn’t want to eat him.” Was how he replied to my so-so answer.
“Probably not.” I said. We do read a lot of Mo Willems’ books and love the Piggie stories. With me trotting around a definitive answer, luckily our conversation moved on to a Thanksgiving song he learned at school that day called “Albuquerque Turkey.”
“Albuquerque has a turkey …”
Happy Thanksgiving!
From The Heart
Some of the best parenting moments are the ones you don’t plan.
My seven year-old received a set of water colors from school, he didn’t open them immediately and let them sit for a few days, but when he was ready to use them, he grabbed my hand and said to me, “Let me paint a heart on you for Carmelina Hart.”
I thought for a second, shrugged my shoulders and replied, “Um, okay.” So he did, and I’m glad he did.
Parenting, One Deep Breath
My seven year-old has a new hobby, collecting Smencils. If you are unfamiliar with Smencils, they are exactly what they sound like, pencils that smell, hence the Smencil. I guess this is a school fund-raiser and they sell for a dollar once a week in the school office during the morning recess. The kids are crazy about them, Azul included. They all buy them when they get a chance and compare the different designs and smells each one has. It seems to be building a community of presenting and sharing with each other.
This appears to be a fairly innocent hobby, it helps them explore their sense of smell and gives them a writing utensil as well. I have had the pleasure of participating in the act of breathing in these artificially enhanced pencils, and I think my favorite is Strawberry Cupcake. Azul’s favorite is Easter Bubble Gum (oh, yes, there are special holiday versions as well). He now has sixteen of these in his collection. He loves his Smencils!
Recently, we attended a workshop together and one of the tasks given to the kids was to create a nameplate out of firm paper and markers while the instructor went over handouts with the adults. The kids all got to work immediately, folding paper and choosing markers to create their one of a kind pieces of artwork. While my curious son was working on his, he immediately began to bring each open marker to his nose, take a deep breath and after finding some satisfaction with the smell he would continue with his project. I watched in a state of confusion. Why was he smelling the markers? And then holding his freshly colored nameplate up to his face and smelling that as well?
Eventually he turned to me with a blue uncapped marker in his hand, pointed to it and said, “Mmmmmm, blueberry.” I graciously accepted his offer and moved to smell the marker, trying not to let it touch my skin, I didn’t want to get marker on my nose and look like a paint huffer …
That’s when it dawned on me, these innocent Smencils, his new-found hobby and love of collecting something to call his own, is training my seven year-old to huff paint!
I could never take his beloved Smencils away, I remember him even saying it helped calm him down when he was angry, but what if he graduates from Easter Bubble Gum to Sharpies, and then to Elmer’s Glue, and then one day to Krylov Multipurpose spray paint! Oh, my baby’s face covered in paint with a dripping cloth in his hand …
“Smell it,” he continued, and he was right — it smelled like blueberry. As he returned to his work, I returned to the present and took a deep breath. Sometimes with parenting you just have to sit back and smell the Smencils.
Carmelina Hart 