Meanwhile back on the farm…

I think our animal-loving microbe is beginning to have a ‘Babe-style’ awakening about what meat is made from. It started the other day when I showed him a lobster in our fridge. I thought he’d find it interesting, given how much he likes eating prawns from the shell…

“Look, James, this is a lobster!”
“Ooh, yes!”
“Mummy and daddy are going to have this for our dinner”
*shocked face*
“Mummy that’s an animal lobster! You’re not going to eat the animal lobster are you?”
“Well… actually yes we are. It is a dead animal, like a very big prawn.”
*silent stare*

A further awakening has come about thanks to a nursery rhyme that he’s taken a shine to. This is in a week in which he’s spent a lot of time declaring “I really love pigs!” and the rhyme in question is:

Tom Tom the piper’s son
Stole a pig and away did run
The pig was eat
And Tom was beat
And Tom went howling down the street

The illustration in his nursery rhyme book depicts a boy stealing a pig-shaped biscuit from a street seller and running away, which Microbe finds hilarious and delightful …and I don’t think he really knows what “beat” means. However he’s discovered another version on Youtube, in which a cartoon piglet is stolen and eaten by a camp fire, prompting the following little exchange this morning…

“Mummy… what did Tom do with the pig?”
“He ate it”
“Why did he eat it?”
“Because he was hungry”
*more silence*

Until now, I think he was under the impression that the only predators pigs had to worry about were Big Bad Wolves.  He’s clearly been pondering it all day because this evening, within moments of me arriving home, he said:

“Mummy… ”
“Yes love?”
“If Tom ate the pig, that would make him sick!”

“Would it?”

Bless him. His farm-love has never been sullied by the topic of death. He knows that cows and goats give us milk and sheep give us wool and chickens give us eggs …but we’ve never broached the topic of what pigs give us – or the link between the sausage rolls he desires at nursery and his beloved piggies. (I might have to plonk him in front of Babe and see what he makes of it all!)

Prior to this alarming new piggie-knowledge, we took the boylet to our local urban farm. We hadn’t told him where he was going, which meant that he had an excitement meltdown when we arrived and ran all over the farmyard at top speed yelling “FAAAAAARRRRRRRRMMMMM!” before he was calm enough to pause and look at any of the animals.

The top attractions of the day were lamb-feeding, an owl display and the tropical zoo show, in which a selection of small furries and scaly things are paraded out, with every child getting a chance to touch or hold everything at least once.

On Good Friday my sis and I took him across the river to Ham House for a run around in their Easter explorer’s trail and some Easter crafts in the downstairs bit. When we stopped for lunch the microbe befriended an older boy with the same haircut and an almost identical top. Then my sister pointed out, to her amusement, that the boy’s mum also looked like a bigger version of me, with pretty much the same hair, camera and outfit. (It’s a humbling experience realising that you and your son are someone else’s ‘mini-me’ ensemble.)

Easter Sunday was a stir-crazy washout. A day so grey and wet that it felt like eternal dusk, with nothing to do but eat chocolate and become even more stir crazy.  At one point Microbe and I stuck our heads out of the window amid the torrential rain, just to get some fresh air.

Thankfully Monday made up for it by providing the most miraculous sparkling sunshine, just in time for an egg hunt with our NCT pals. This was a fun and casual affair in a local park. We scattered the eggs around in easy-to-spot places and sent the microbes off to find them all before the squirrels did. It was so shiny and warm afterwards that we let them loose in the open air play beach on the riverside, just to tire them out thoroughly…

What with Easter and our lovely weekend in Sidmouth, the last two weeks have felt like holiday season. Now we’re all back at work and nursery but feeling better for the break.

We’ve also seen the return of Henry VIII in the last few weeks, with entire meals being eaten up on a daily basis (amaze!) Left to his own devices, Henry’s meal of choice would be a metric ton of Easter chocolate supplemented by a handful of daddy’s roast potatoes. Hence we’re still doing a fair bit of haggling – but it’s possible to watch large quantities of broccoli & asparagus go down the hatch in return for the promise of chocolate.  Daddy and I are also doing sterling work to reduce the sugar mountain behind the scenes.

Well that’s probably enough of a photo-bombardment to be going on with, so I shall say goodnight all x

About Susan Flockhart

Bonsai lady-geek and blogger. I can hardly recall what I used to blog about pre-microbes, but these days I generally ramble about motherhood, nonsense and whatever's going on the world of tiny people
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2 Responses to Meanwhile back on the farm…

  1. Hester says:

    A friend’s little boy went through the same realisation, but in his case, it went like this;
    “Mummy, why is this called lamb? Is it like lambs in the fields?”
    “Well, yes, it is.”
    “You mean we eat lambs? We kill them and chop them up and cook them and eat them?”
    “Well…. yes, we do.”
    There was a silence, and then he laughed and laughed and laughed, and got on with dinner.

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