Rainbows and Crystals and Indigo Babies--oh my!
Dead animals stink.
That's the lesson I took away from the butcher this morning when I went to pick-up the turkey. Gibble agreed with me and pointed at the display of dead birds wrapped in plastic exclaiming, "der der der!" at the top of his lungs as if he were trying to draw an ignorant crowd's attention to a murder taking place underneath their nose. Oh my G-d...underneath my nose... Waiting in line for ten minutes, breathing in the fumes of the carcasses. It reaffirmed my life-long commitment to vegetarianism. Gibble, our boy twin, clawed his way up and down my body, alternating between clinging to me with his face buried into my shoulder and staring behind him at the display case in horror.
A side story: when my niece was four-years-old, she asked me one day as she ate a plate of chicken nuggets if I thought that it was funny that the nuggets were called "chicken" and there was also an animal called a "chicken." I told her that I didn't think it was funny at all because the chicken she was eating was once the chicken that walked around the barnyard. She fell off her chair laughing, thinking the whole thing was a joke. She was equally hysterical when I told her that cows were hamburgers. She climbed back into her chair and annouced, "you are so funny."
Interestingly, my aforementioned son gobbled up the chicken and rice I served him last night. And loved it.
My brother came into town for Thanksgiving, so he accompanied me to the butcher, carrying Ladybird, our girl twin. Ladybird was not subjected to the harsh reality of the origins of Thanksgiving dinner. Instead she travelled around the store with my brother in search of Israeli couscous (which is thicker than regular couscous--in case you were wondering), pointing out every interesting bottle and jar. Both twins have a thing for small, empty plastic bottles. Gibble's best friend is an empty saline nosespray container named Saylie.
I am back on track in preparing my Thanksgiving dinner after a time-sucking side trip into Internet surfing on the subject of "Indigo babies." Someone had posted a message about Indigo babies on my parenting listserv, and curious, I googled the phrase, which brought me into the new age world of babies who can "tell the future." There were testimonials from parents blasely relaying the fact that their children can predict events. Googling indigo babies also taught me about crystal babies (who shine like crystals, attracting a large crowd of followers) and rainbow babies who do something else that is very very special.
I needed to waste a half hour contemplating whether either of my children fit into these three categories before I remembered that I didn't believe in these things and I had a Thanksgiving dinner to prepare.
Our Thanksgiving menu:
Turkey and gravy (will be made tomorrow)
Mushroom gravy
Mushroom stuffing
Green beans and potatoes in a shallot-vermouth vinaigrette
Garlic spinach
Sweet potatoes with caramelized apples
Broccoli in hazelnut butter
and for dessert...
Pumpkin bourbon pecan pie
And because I am so on top of my game thanks to my new cooking school (one day after learning my new knife techniques, I can chop an entire onion in under a minute), my sous-chefs and I can blow off this afternoon and roll around in the downstairs play area, otherwise known as Little Tykes Heaven. And speaking of my sous-chefs, I can hear them awakening as we speak.
That's the lesson I took away from the butcher this morning when I went to pick-up the turkey. Gibble agreed with me and pointed at the display of dead birds wrapped in plastic exclaiming, "der der der!" at the top of his lungs as if he were trying to draw an ignorant crowd's attention to a murder taking place underneath their nose. Oh my G-d...underneath my nose... Waiting in line for ten minutes, breathing in the fumes of the carcasses. It reaffirmed my life-long commitment to vegetarianism. Gibble, our boy twin, clawed his way up and down my body, alternating between clinging to me with his face buried into my shoulder and staring behind him at the display case in horror.
A side story: when my niece was four-years-old, she asked me one day as she ate a plate of chicken nuggets if I thought that it was funny that the nuggets were called "chicken" and there was also an animal called a "chicken." I told her that I didn't think it was funny at all because the chicken she was eating was once the chicken that walked around the barnyard. She fell off her chair laughing, thinking the whole thing was a joke. She was equally hysterical when I told her that cows were hamburgers. She climbed back into her chair and annouced, "you are so funny."
Interestingly, my aforementioned son gobbled up the chicken and rice I served him last night. And loved it.
My brother came into town for Thanksgiving, so he accompanied me to the butcher, carrying Ladybird, our girl twin. Ladybird was not subjected to the harsh reality of the origins of Thanksgiving dinner. Instead she travelled around the store with my brother in search of Israeli couscous (which is thicker than regular couscous--in case you were wondering), pointing out every interesting bottle and jar. Both twins have a thing for small, empty plastic bottles. Gibble's best friend is an empty saline nosespray container named Saylie.
I am back on track in preparing my Thanksgiving dinner after a time-sucking side trip into Internet surfing on the subject of "Indigo babies." Someone had posted a message about Indigo babies on my parenting listserv, and curious, I googled the phrase, which brought me into the new age world of babies who can "tell the future." There were testimonials from parents blasely relaying the fact that their children can predict events. Googling indigo babies also taught me about crystal babies (who shine like crystals, attracting a large crowd of followers) and rainbow babies who do something else that is very very special.
I needed to waste a half hour contemplating whether either of my children fit into these three categories before I remembered that I didn't believe in these things and I had a Thanksgiving dinner to prepare.
Our Thanksgiving menu:
Turkey and gravy (will be made tomorrow)
Mushroom gravy
Mushroom stuffing
Green beans and potatoes in a shallot-vermouth vinaigrette
Garlic spinach
Sweet potatoes with caramelized apples
Broccoli in hazelnut butter
and for dessert...
Pumpkin bourbon pecan pie
And because I am so on top of my game thanks to my new cooking school (one day after learning my new knife techniques, I can chop an entire onion in under a minute), my sous-chefs and I can blow off this afternoon and roll around in the downstairs play area, otherwise known as Little Tykes Heaven. And speaking of my sous-chefs, I can hear them awakening as we speak.
posted by Mum at 3:28 PM
1 Comments:
My sister in law is a vegetarian and has only recently relaxed the "no animal flesh" rules in the house to allow her kids to eat smoked salmon once in a while... she does however allow them to eat meat once over the threshold.
Which I mention apropos of your children wolfing meat, and last year's Thanksgiving where my niece had to be restrained from eating half the turkey and nothing else. Some kids are not instinctive vegetarians...
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