Buzz Kill
Since the announcement of Scott Weiland’s death, I have been listening non-stop to Stone Temple Pilots, and loud. So that means, if I’m listening, my little constant companion is listening as well. Most of the time I have been listening in the car because that is where my CD player is located. Yup, I said CD player. While caught up in the nostalgia of Crackerman and reminiscing of a time when I was younger, thinner and consistently under the influence (a.k.a. much cooler than I am now), I was reminded of the time I saw STP in concert. It was one of the best shows I have ever seen and that memory drowned me in a wave of intoxication.
Suddenly I looked up at my mini rearview mirror (you know the supplemental ones parents place on the inside of the windshield of the car in order to watch their children’s every move), and noticed my son with a sober expression on his face and his little fingers in his tiny seven year-old ears.
“Oh, I’m sorry my love.” I said while turning the music down, “Is it too loud?”
Now that we could hear each other again, our conversation got its second wind. I’m not sure what I was expecting as an answer, but obviously Azul was not in the same place I was.
Looking back at me in the pint-sized mirror with a crinkled nose, he said, “I’m just not really into Country music.”
Intergalactic Laughter
Bath time now has two new themes, the first is Lush bath bombs and the second is inappropriate conversation. I cherish them both. If you have never tried bath bombs, you should, they smell and look amazing, and are just awesome in every way. And if you have not participated in a dialogue with your child, you should try that as well, kids can be thoroughly entertaining.
This past Bath Night (this is a thing, he has them twice a week whether he needs it or not), Azul my seven year-old tried a new bomb called Intergalactic. It is cool! Before dissolved, it looks like outer space and then when dissolved in water, it turns the bath a bright blue and has glitter that makes the water looks like it has little stars floating in it.
While in the tub talking about the solar system and planets (that’s not the inappropriate part) I said to my son, “I don’t see Uranus, but I do see your penis.” (That’s when it got entertaining.) And we both laughed!
When the laughter subsided, I asked, “You know why that’s funny, right?”
And of course he did saying, “Yeah, Uranus is in the night sky, but your penis is his cousin!” I don’t care what galaxy you’re from, that’s funny! We both cracked-up again.
This is how it looks, not Uranus or his cousin, but the tub water.
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!
Carmelina Hart 