Veggie Tales

I think that some of my best stories regarding G are those involving his early signs of having inherited the resessive Wood PETA gene. In other words, G is (largely) a vegetarian. I didn't train him into this thinking; he really did come this way, shirking meat at the earliest opportunity. It comes as a semi-surprise since M and I are ravenous thrilling-seeking steak lovers. Actually, just about any meat will do. So, despite having carinvoriety modeled for him since in utero, G just doesn't choose to knowingly eat meat.

I have to say it this way because he does eat meat, and those exceptions have been argued to a limited point. G will eat fish sticks because "Mom, they are STICKS, not FISH, not like you eat FISH" and he'll eat hot dogs/corn dogs because, darn it, I just never told him that the rest of the world doesn't eat veggie dogs. He's actually also been known to eat a chicken nugget or two, especially if it is shaped like a dinosaur and is called a nugget and not a CHICKEN nugget. Even then, the fish stick arguement would probably stand. Now, with all the above mentioned items one could actually argue usually aren't meat, because they probably are packed with other "soy filler" kinds of stuff and don't have the texture of a slab of other kinds of "normal" meat.

I know some day he will figure these objects of protein do actually come from a true meat source. I just figured that when he goes to therapy in the future, he can mention this as one of those "things I did to him." He can tell Oprah all about it. About how his mother lied to him about where hot dogs come from. I can live with that. And maybe I'll even get a guest appearance out of the deal.

As I said, I didn't encourage the vegetarianism, but I certainly support it. I wonder if any of those things I did in the early days had an impact on his choices: the breast milk, then soy formula (cause dairy sensitivity runs on both sides of the family), then organic veggies and fruits from Whole Foods. I didn't try to introduce meat until well after other finger foods were introduced. I just couldn't offer up the jar "meats" that the large baby food companies offered. Some foods just shouldn't be put in a blender before serving. (Unless it's packaged in a nice covering like a hot dog or sausage where the pureed form is sort of hidden. )

The first time I tried to introduce meat into my son's diet was somewhere around 15 months I would imagine. (I didn't write this stuff down at the time.) I had boiled some chicken for a dinner dish and offered him some bite pieces. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Here's some dinner. I have chicken and pears for you."
G looks at his plate skeptically. Recognizes the pears, points to the chicken on his plate.
G: "Chick-Ken?"
Me: "Yes, chicken, try it." Picks up and offers piece of chicken to him.
G watches me thoughfully, wheels cranking in his head.
G: "Chick-Ken?"
Me: "Yes, chicken, yummy."
G still ponders me a moment, I can see things processing in his toddler brain.
G shakes head: "No, no, Chick-Ken."

I can't say FOR SURE what went on in his head, what all those wheels were. I do know we had recently read "farm stories" at bedtime. I also know that shortly after this incident he was quick to point to a picture of a chicken in said farm story and ask "Chick-Ken?" I can't tell you the exact time frame in which this happened, but looking back I imagine he put two-and-two together rather quickly, if not at that exact moment. I imagine our real conversation, had he obtained the appropriate verbal skills at that time, would have gone something more like this:

Me: "Here's some dinner. I have chicken and pears for you."
G looks at his plate skeptically. Recognizes the pears, points to the chicken on his plate.
G: "Chick-Ken? Where have I heard this term before, cause I swear I have heard that name recently in another context that wasn't on my plate."
Me: "Yes, chicken, try it." Picks up and offers piece of chicken to him.
G watches me thoughfully, wheels cranking in his head.
G: "Chick-Ken? Ah, yes, I remember now. Wasn't there a creature called a chicken on Old MacDonald's farm? A live animal with feathers that you said went 'bock bock' and pecked at the ground for it's food?"
Me: "Yes, chicken, yummy."
G still ponders me a moment, I can see things processing in his toddler brain.
G shakes head: "No, no, Chick-Ken. I don't want to eat that cute thing with feathers and a little yellow beak. How dare you try to serve it to me this way. That's so inhumane! Shall I never let a poor defenseless creature who died to be on my plate pass these lips!"

While I am sure this is an exaggeration, I do have to tell you that I know the answer he's looking for today when he asks what steak is. The appropriate answer in his book isn't "beef;" no, the appropriate answer is "dead cow." I have learned this from experience. He didn't quit asking until that answer was given.

"No Mom, what ANIMAL did that come from."

As long as I don't have to slaughter and skin it, I'll take mine medium rare, thanks.