All you parents out there know that when it comes to dealing with kids, there are times you tell them the truth, and times that you protect them with the time-honored tradition of making stuff up. I should have done that this morning.
I’m feeling pretty crappy about choosing “truth” this morning – one look at his horrified little face and I thought to myself “Oh, that wasn’t good.”
See, he was watching Jimmy Neutron, and Sheen and Carl are arguing about where balony comes from. One said balony trees, the other said something else, which escapes me right now. Junior asked me which one of the two was correct.
“Neither,” says I. “It comes from pigs.”
“How do the pigs make it?”
Now see, this is the point where I should have shut the heck up, you know?
“They don’t make it. They kill the pig and make it from the pig meat.”
Insert look of horror here.
“Uh, they, uh, don’t kill the little babies to make it, do they?”
“No, just the big old fat ones.”
“Oh, so they have to kill them because they’re old.”
At this point, I just agree with him, but I do throw in that we get other meats from pigs too – ham, hot dogs (ya, I know they make beef franks), pork chops, bacon, sausage…
I have no idea why I decided this morning was an appropriate morning to explain where meat comes from. But it’s not like he eats it anyway. We didn’t discuss chicken nuggets, for the record.
