No Vegetarians Yet

We’re buying a half cow from a family we know. We toured their farm and met the meat. My kids loved the tour–they got to raise and lower the front-loader attachment on the tractor, were given a ride on our host’s RTV, collected eggs from the chicken coop (we got to take the eggs home), rode in the house elevator, and were nuzzled by friendly horses.

But then there arose a snag.
“My friend thinks that the butcher will have our cow ready some time in September,” I told my husband at dinner.

“Our cow? Where are we going to put a cow?” asked my daughter. “Will it live in our yard?”

“Well, we’re just buying half the meat off the cow,” I explained. “The cow’s got to be killed first. ”

“I don’t want the cow to die,” cried my daughter.

“He has to die before he can be made into beef.”

“But I don’t want to eat that cow!”

“Look, kid, see those meatballs on your plate? They came from a cow. Every time you eat meat, it came from an animal. And most of the animals we eat weren’t treated anywhere nearly as nicely as the cow we’re buying.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they don’t get to wander around a farm like the cows our friends raise. They have to stay in very small, crowded places, and their lives aren’t as happy as the life of this cow.”

“Then we should only eat cow from the grocery store,” said my daughter, calmly chewing a forkful of spaghetti and meatball.

“Er, why is that?”

“Because it’s better to kill cows that have a sad life than a happy life.” I was a bit nonplussed, so my husband jumped in.

“Honey, these cows only exist because people want to eat them. Without people wanting to eat cows, there would be a lot fewer cows in the world.”

“Some people don’t eat meat because they think it’s wrong to kill animals,” I added. “We think it’s okay because, besides being delicious, animals have lots of protein and other nutrients that are good for your body. But, I mean, if you want to be a vegetarian and not eat meat, you can have a perfectly healthy diet without it.”

My daughter frowned, looked at her plate, and popped another meatball into her mouth.

We’re picking up the beef today.

 

Postscript: And here it is, minus some bones and ground beef defrosting in my fridge.

Diary of a 2-Year-Old

7:15 AM: Hooray, I’m awake! I get to go see Mommy! Time for breakfast! I love breakfast! There’s brother! I love brother!

7:16: Brother pretends to shoot me. SCREAM!!!

7:18: Oh, boy, Cheerios! I love Cheerios!

7:20: I ask where Sister is. Mommy says she’s at school. That’s what she said yesterday, too.

7:26: Brother looks at me and made funny noises. SCREAM!!!

7:30: Mommy reads us a book. Hooray! I love books! I give Mommy and brother kisses.

7:56: I wannanother book! Mommy only read me three books!

7:58: Mommy says I have a poopy diaper. I tell her there are lollipops in my diaper. Mommy cleans me off and makes me sit on the potty. I like sitting on the potty because I get to play games, and I’m good at holding it until Mommy puts me back into a diaper.

8:25: Daddy comes downstairs and eats his cereal. I pick him spicy peppers. He shows me a spider he caught. Brother and I close the basement door behind Daddy; Mommy yells at us to let Daddy get down the stairs before we close the door.

10:46: I help Mommy unload the dishwasher. I am a good helper. I even help Mommy get the broom and dustpan to sweep up the pieces of the glass that fell out of my hands.

11:05: I ask Mommy for a snack. She says no, lunch will be in half an hour. I don’t like lunch! I want a snack!

11:30: Brother runs to the basement to tell Daddy that lunch is ready. I wanted to do that! SCREAM!!!

11:31: Oh, boy, lunch! I love lunch! I tell Mommy she made a good dinner because I get lunch and dinner mixed up.

12:06: Brother and I clear off plates. Then Mommy makes us pick up toys from the family room floor. Bad Mommy! I’m too tired to pick up toys, but when Mommy says that if I’m so tired I should be taking a nap now I don’t have any choice. Rats! Outwitted again!

12:56: I wannanother book! Mommy only read me two books!

1:02: Mommy rocks me in my room. “Jesus loves me…Mary had a little lamb…En mi vida….” She puts me in my snuggly bed. I hate this bed because it’s not my yellow crib, which Mommy and Daddy took apart because I’m a big boy, but right now it feels soft and warm and I cuddle under the blankets with my stuffed animals.

1:07: I had a good nap! I try to visit Brother in his room. Mommy yells that I can’t come out yet.

1:09: Still can’t come out.

1:12: Still can’t come out.

1:15: Still can’t come out.

…

2:15: Mommy finally says I can come out. Is it TV time yet? I’m hungry for a snack.

2:58: Mommy walks to the bus stop to get Sister. Brother goes with her. I can see them from the window. Now is a good time to find out how many bubbles I can make in the bathroom sink. Huh, look at all the bubbles on the floor! They’re so pretty.

3:04: Sister eats a snack. Is it TV time YET? No, we read a book, then play outside on the swing set with our friends. Mommy asks who made a mess in the bathroom. I don’t know.

4:30: Hooray! It’s TV time! Oh, no, Brother and Sister want to watch Woody Woodpecker. I don’t like Woody Woodpecker. I like monster trucks. I want to watch the monster truck show. Ha, ha, look at Woody Woodpecker tricking Wally Walrus! Wally Walrus is so funny!

4:57: I am bored with Woody Woodpecker, but Mommy won’t read me more than one book because she has to make dinner! I hate dinner!

5:20: Mommy lets me set the table. She has to help me get the plates and forks and knives and napkins and do the drinks herself, but I do everything else! Sister announces that I set everything crooked.

5:30: Sister runs to the basement to tell Daddy that lunch is ready. I wanted to do that! SCREAM!!!

5:31: Oh, boy, dinner! I love dinner! I tell Mommy she made a good dinner.

6:45: My teeth are brushed and diaper changed; Daddy rocks me in my room and sings. “Now I lay me down to sleep…Jesus loves me…When I fall in love….” He puts me into my bed, which I still hate, but is so very cozy with my stuffed animals. He kisses me, then Mommy comes in to kiss me. I’m not really tired, but the pillow feels so good….

The Haircut

We’re working toward our kids’ independence.

We don’t neglect them, because then they’ll lack the examples and information they need to make good choices.

We don’t smother them, because then they won’t be able to make choices at all–or when they are finally away from our orbit, they’ll go nuts because they’ll have had no practice at responsibility, risks, and decision-making. (Indeed, a neglectful parent and a smothering parent can produce similarly-handicapped children.)

All this to say: We didn’t punish the child who decided to experiment with a new, much shorter hairstyle. A professional will shortly be cleaning up the, er, ragged edges; once this is done, the kid will probably look decent. Technically, this child didn’t break any rules; it is one of the two who are allowed to handle scissors, and we’ve never explicitly told our kids not to cut their own hair. We have since discussed that, in the future, if our kids want a haircut, they must come to us.

My mother thinks I should have punished the child. After all, cutting your own hair! And see how awful it looks! Eek! My husband and I disagreed. We come down on deliberate disobedience, disrespect, lying, and meanness like a ton of bricks. We don’t think that this child’s action falls under any of those categories, although future self-administered haircuts would. As for appearance–hair grows, and all of my kids grow hair very quickly.

There is a larger concern about this incident: The child acted in an impulsive manner, without consulting Mom and Dad. Acting on impulse could be very harmful if, some years down the line, the kid decided to try some weed or cheat on a test. However, this child is very independent, but not especially prone to doing dumb things because they seem like a good idea at the time. I think this was an aberration, and not an indicator of a Disturbing Pattern.

All of these considerations I can turn over in my mind, and ruminate on the best course of action and how it relates to our long-term parenting goals. But in the final analysis, I have a level of sympathy for this kid that is irrational, and based on my own childhood. My parents loved my long hair and told me how beautiful it was. I hated washing it, hated having it combed and brushed, and hated the way it flopped in my eyes and blew about my face. Pony tails and bobby pins hurt. It never occurred to me to ask my parents to cut my hair, because I knew they loved it. In sixth grade, however, after a night spent on an old sailing vessel in very stormy weather (best school trip ever), my hair became so hopelessly matted and tangled that it had to be cut to just above my shoulders. It was wonderful. What a burden had been lifted! How freeing! I wish my child had come to me about wanting an alteration in hairstyle; we would have made it happen.

Parents ought to police the appearance of their children. Most parents agree to some extent–even the most liberal would hesitate to send a kid to school in a bathing suit on a 20-degree day. Most would wash the mud off their protesting children’s faces if they were going somewhere. Our kids will have to abide by our standards, and we won’t allow them out in something we consider immodest, trashy, or otherwise communicating an offensive message. Our standards are arbitrary, as most standards of appearance or custom are, but abiding by these standards shows respect for us.

But within certain limits, we want also to allow our children freedom over their appearance. To guide, but not to smother. My son used not to leave the house without a hat made of a toy sink-bowl, and my daughter used to layer brilliant colors and patterns on until she looked like something in a fever dream. They grew out of it, and generally pick acceptable outfits from what’s available. I am sure that some day I shall look at my grown child’s appearance and sigh, “You’d be so handsome/pretty if you’d just do X,” but I hope that I’ll do so inwardly. After all, the goal here is independence, and not the production of a carbon copy of myself or my preferences.

Fetuswise, or: To Train Up A Fetus

In order for your child to grow up to be a balanced, decent adult, you must actively parent that child. Children do not need to be taught bad behavior, but they need considerable direction in order to learn how to be good, truthful, obedient, and well-mannered.* “The child is father of the man,” says Wordsworth, and the infant is father of the child; many experts have recognized the value of training infants to eat and sleep on the parents’ schedule, and do whatever the parent wishes. By strictly controlling every single aspect of your infant’s life, you will therefore ensure that they grow up to be adults who behave precisely as you wish. 

Although there are plenty of resources for parents wishing to train their babies, there is a dearth of materials available for training the pre-born child. I find this gap disturbing; if training a 6-week-old is desirable, how much better to train the child at 6 weeks of gestation? Get them before they’ve had several months of developing terrible habits, and you will be guaranteed a perfectly-behaved child forever. I offer the following short guide to nipping bad behaviors in the bud–that is, in the womb.

Eating

Newborns have a terrible habit of demanding feeding every 2 or 3 hours, and sometimes more frequently. Pediatricians would have you believe that this is because the newborn’s tiny stomach does not allow it to take in sufficient milk to keep it from getting dehydrated or having a low blood sugar level; they’ll say all sorts of things about jaundice, rapid infant development, brain damage, blah, blah, blah. The truth is that the newborn has been spoiled by 9 months of constant feeding-on-demand through the umbilical cord. The only solution is for you to fast several hours so that you aren’t digesting new nutrients until the time that YOU determine the fetus should be fed.**

Potty Training

Likewise, rather than allowing the lazy little thing to constantly pee and drink its own urine, start your potty training promptly, by only drinking twice per day.***

Sleeping

As every new parent knows, infants are born without knowing that they should be active during the day and sleep at night. Indeed, many a pregnant woman has found that her settling down for the night seems to be an invitation to her unborn child to start practicing soccer or MMA. Aside from yelling “Knock it off and go to sleep!” the mother can prevent this mixup by shining a flashlight into her abdomen during the daytime hours, along with screaming continuously to let the kid know that it isn’t sleepy time (except for duly scheduled naps).

Thumb Sucking

Everyone knows what a dangerous habit this is, and it occurs as early as 9 or 10 weeks of gestation. This behavior can be eliminated with permanent ultrasound surveillance of the fetus and some well-timed pokes to the abdomen to encourage the baby to desist from thumb-sucking.****

General

Make sure to talk to your unborn baby every day. You should emphasize that it was conceived in iniquity and is totally depraved and dead in its sins. If the child isn’t born able to recite the Westminster Confession and several volumes of Calvin’s Institutes, you have failed as a parent. Congratulations on your little bundle of wrath!

 

 

*The foregoing is true. The rest of the post is satire. Although I do indeed believe that children should be trained, this training should be loving, age-appropriate, and postnatal.

**This won’t work. Don’t do it. Here’s some guidance from the National Institutes of Health on nutrition and weight gain during pregnancy.

***Really, really don’t do this; dehydration can lead to contractions, improper fetal development, and other bad outcomes.

****If you’re even considering doing something like this, please get help immediately.