Caroline and I were on our way to the library the other day because I want her to be a fan of the books.
Since she shares 50% of her daddy’s DNA and his favorite book is the hardcover edition of the Cabela’s catalog, I sometimes worry that I’m fighting an uphill battle.
So as we’re driving along I asked her, “What kind of books are you going to check out today?”
“I want to get some books on science. I want to learn more about a lot of science stuff.”
“Are you adopted?”
Oh, of course I didn’t say that.
I said, “That’s great. We’ll look for books about science.”
And then maybe you can teach Mama something.
“Okay. I want to learn about science because when I grow up I want to be a vegetarian!”
Seriously? A vegetarian?
Were you switched at birth?
Is there some lovely vegan couple somewhere wondering why their four year old cries for hamburgers night and day?
We are red state Republicans. We watch Nascar. We hunt and fish. We eat meat.
We subscribe to the theory that vegetables are what food eats.
These are all the thoughts that are running through my head.
But all I say is, “You really want to be a vegetarian?”
“Yes. I want to help animals get better when they’re sick. That’s what vegetarians do.”
Well, if by help them you mean not eat them, then you’re exactly right.