In Which the PETA Card Is Revoked

I love to tell stories about my son's vegetarian choices. It's an ideal I personally hold: to eat only grains, veggies and fruits. To have a shining karmic life in which no animal has to die to satisfy my palate or clothe my body. In my own little Utopian mind, I would live a strict Vegan life. As Jainist as possible.

There's one little problem for me living my life in that fasion... two really:

1)I love steak.

2)My body just doesn't feel right when I have abstained from meat.

So when my son said "No, no Chick'n" when he was under the age of 2, I was beside myself. If I couldn't live the life, I could raise one who would. Oh, I let the hot dogs, corn dogs and fish sticks slide, and didn't ever tell him they were meat. After all, I am doing my best to nuture him and encourage independent thought over telling him what to do. Still, I had that urge to nuture my idealism in G. (without going *too* overboard)

It did catch me off guard when G ordered chicken nuggets of his own free will at the Burger King a couple of weekends ago. I reminded him we were there to eat, not because they had the coolest indoor playground we passed. He said that the chicken nugget meal is what he wanted. And he ate every crown shaped nugget.

We've experienced this anomoly before: he'll order chicken nuggets and eat them but will swear off meat at the very next opportunity. But earlier this week, it happened again. We went to Sonic this time. I said "Grilled Cheese or Corn Dog?" which is G's usual Sonic fare. He wrinkled his face at me so I offered "...or they have Chicken Strips..."

"Chicken Strips" he said firmly. I glanced at him in the back seat and proceeded to order.

He ate them again.

On the drive home, I tried to be casual. "So... you're, um, eating some meat now?"

He paused and inquired, "Is chicken meat?"

I paused and replied, "Yes. Chicken is meat."

He took in this information thoughtfully. "Yeah, I like chicken. I won't eat that dark stuff though."

Me: "Dark stuff, you mean beef?"

G: "Yeah, that's nasty."

Me: "Mmmmm... okay, it's your choice. Always has been."

G: "I know."

Perhaps in the next life I will live my own Utopian dream. Or, own a premium steak house.