I’m not sure I have to point out the irony of this post following my Meatless Monday series, but it has recently become very clear that my oldest daughter does not share my sentiments when it comes to red meat and when she turns 14 and is required to practice the laws of abstinence, Fridays in Lent will likely be quite the penance for her.
Although I’m no longer a vegetarian, I can’t remember the last time I ate a steak or cheeseburger. Even now that I eat meat on a regular basis, I still can’t think about where it comes from without feeling a little guilty, and working with raw meat often makes my stomach turn.
Not only did I embrace vegetarianism at a fairly young age, I was one of those peculiar, extra-sensitive kids who screamed at her brothers if they happened to hurl one of my beloved stuffed animals across the room, really believing it was “real” – if you loved it enough – just like the Velveteen Rabbit – and sprung to life when no one was looking.
So you can imagine my dismay during story time several nights ago when the following exchange took place:
The girls and I are curled up together in bed and it’s time to read another chapter from Farmer Boy. When we get to this passage, I’m starting to feel queasy and worried my preschooler will swear off meat after hearing the gruesome details of butchering:
“As soon as one was killed, Father and Joe dipped the carcass into the boiling cauldron, and heaved it out and laid it on the boards. With butcher knives they scraped all the hair off it. Then they hung it up by the hind feet in a tree, and cut it open and took all the insides out into a tub.”
From me: A mental Ewwwwww…
From my 4-year-old: “Yum,” and some loud lip-smacking.
I don’t mean to look at her like she’s crazy, but I can’t help it.
She explains, “You know why I said, ‘Yum?’ Because that’s how you make steak and stuff.”
Her daddy would be proud.