Photo: Look at my Manly McManMan husband over there, choppin’ wood and buildin’ racks and stuff! I leave him with the boys to go do some business and next thing I know, I hear Whack! Thud! “WOW!” This man…what am I gonna do with him? He says he’s gonna build a roof for our new little wood rack, too? Meanwhile, we ain’t got no fire pit to burn the wood in! It’s too hot and dry for fires anyway. Whatever, it’s still awesome.
The heat has broken for a little while and rain has been falling from the sky. It was only in the lower 70s for most of the day yesterday, so I decided to do a low-and-slow recipe for dinner, throwing a rack of ribs in the oven instead of going outside and grilling in the drizzle. It was a welcome change of pace and flavor, a delight to have the house smell of spices and barbecue sauce. I sauteed some of our awesome potatoes from the CSA in butter and olive oil, and served that alongside some CSA corn as well. Good meal and stupid easy!
Well, Minor wouldn’t eat it.
It didn’t have Cheezits. We’d bought a box of it at Costco the day before and it’s all he wanted. I thought he’d forgotten about it (we have a box of goldfish that he needs to finish first), but no, he hadn’t. He’d expected to have that for lunch and, when he didn’t get it, he expected it for dinner.
He was so pissed, he sat at the table for about 5 minutes (the rule is you must come to the table. After that we can talk), licked a potato, sulked and then was dismissed. *sigh*
Major was actually excited about ribs. Anything with BBQ sauce is his favorite thing. He settled in, politely listening to The Husband and I talk about nothing. He finished his first rib, asked for another one, and then he has this stream of consciousness:
“What is a rib, anyway? Is it an animal?”
The Husband: “It is, yes.”
“And did it die?”
Me: “It did, yes.”
“Ah, so that’s why there is a bone in here, right?”
The Husband and I nodded. We went back to eating. A few minutes later, he was back for more.
“So which animal is it?”
Me: “Well, these ribs came from a pig.”
“Was it a baby pig?”
I was worried about his reaction. We spend a lot of time at the farm, you know. He really likes visiting the pigs there. The Husband, who actually knows a bit about farming, answered, “Oh no… this pig was likely a couple of years old.”
Major seemed to be satisfied with that. Until, of course, he had to ask: “But it was alive, right? And then someone had to dead it?”
You can’t really lie to the child. “Well, yes. Someone had to kill the pig for us to eat it. We’re really grateful to the pig, because it gave its life so we can eat and live.”
He nodded at this. Awesome. I was ready to steer the conversation somewhere else. Then my son asks this: “So, the pig chose to die?”
Damn, kid! That’s what I get!
My husband gave me one of those “that’s your fault” looks, holding back his snickers as I backpedaled and explained. Major exhausted his questions as he kept eating, so I guess I didn’t just convert him to vegetarianism. Funky as it was, I think we all walked away from that conversation feeling really pleased: The Husband and I really got to see Major’s intellect on display. Major learned that probing questions can lead to interesting answers. Hopefully, he’ll remain curious and unafraid to ask the questions on his mind.
Lord, when did that child get so big? It’s an impossible balancing act: keeping the children precious and wonderful while facilitating their all-important growth and eventual adventures out in the big wide world.
May we all remain curious, always asking the next big question.
Thank you for your comments, tweets and emails last Friday. You guys are wonderful. My grandmother is still uncomfortable from her diagnostic procedure last week, but she was in good spirits when I spoke to her. She doesn’t know her true diagnosis yet, and it was hard to speak to her without revealing it. The good news is that there was plenty to talk about, between back-to-school shopping (The Children’s Place is having the BEST sale right now!), guitar lessons, the trip to Missouri, and the flooding in Ellicott City. Next Sunday, she’ll know. I don’t know how this is going to go yet.
It is a Monday without a convention to watch. Praise God! Let’s all get to bed early tonight!
I’m looking for Brazillian recipes to cook on Friday to celebrate the Olympics. Anyone know any good ones?
Let’s do something awesome this week. Don’t forget to ask a good question between now and when I see you next. Until Wednesday, Dear Reader, take care.