Elliott came to me today very concerned: “Mommy, what I am going to do, if I choose a person who is not a vegetarian?”
Me: What do you mean, choose a person?
Elliott: To marry
Me: Why are you worried about that?
Elliott: Because. What if she cooks something with meat in it?
Me: Well, that is a long way away, but when you are a grown up, you can decide for yourself. If you want to eat meat and the person you marry cooks meat, then you eat it. But I think you will make the right choice (heehee...Jewish guilt) and not eat it. If someone makes you something with meat in in, you can just have salad, or make yourself some cereal or pasta or an English muffin or something. But you don’t need to worry about it now.
Elliott: Hmmm. I think, I am just going to eat meat. But not the kind that comes from dead animals. The other kind. Lazy kid doesn't want to cook, already!
Me: There is no other kind. All meat comes from dead animals.
Elliott: What about meatballs? They don’t look like an animal.
Me: They are dead smushed up cows. Poor thing has such a mean manipulative mother. He’s crushed...well, not as crushed as the cows that went into those meatballs he’s apparently salivating over.
Me: Elliott, why are you worrying about this now?
Elliott: Well, there are just so many beautiful girls. How do I know which one of them is good enough for me? Oh...I just can’t even stop laughing about this one- because he’s five. If he was 45, single, on jdate and not my son, I’d be cursing him to hell and back for that attitude.
Me: Like who? Who is so beautiful?
Elliott: I think you are the most beautiful.