A couple of months ago, my husband and his very good friend decided to take the kids to a Red Sox game in Toronto. On the way to the game, they pass a truck full of pigs. My very oblivious to the real world, huge animal loving but especially pig loving, 5 year old little boy says: " Hey Daddy, look! The farmer is taking the pigs out for a ride"
Before my husband could stop him, his friend blurts out " Their going for a drive all right, right to the butcher" or something like that.
That was the day the boy stopped eating pig.
We've discussed the fact that God put them on earth for a reason, even that cows and chickens suffer the same fate. The boy will not budge.
Instead, we've been coming up with some creative terms for pork.
The boy: Is this pig?
Me: Um, its, um tenderloin. Yup, tenderloin.
He will not be fooled.
Before the party, we go over the typical party rules. Be on your best behaviour, be polite and use manners, wash hands and eat WHATEVER they serve. We remind him its rude to say you don't like something or ask for something different.
We drop him off and hope for the best.
Three hours later, I arrive to pick him up. I am greeted by three lovely ladies, all wearing huge grins.
The first one calls for the boy to come.
The second tells me: " He didn't eat much. Says he usually eats Chicken Dogs. Mentioned something about pigs on a truck?" She is clearly amused by my pain.
Then the boy comes running around the corner, face painted like
this:
The third one tells me: "We gave him some root beer. He drank it all and told us he was drunk. " She then says to my son, " Show mommy your drunk dance."
There amidst all these strange women, my son mimics a drunk Johnny Depp a la Captain Jack Sparrow.
"Damn you Pirates of the Caribbean" I am muttering to myself as we hightail our asses outta there.
Wonder if he'll get invited to the next class party?
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