Monday, April 17, 2006
Just do it.
If you have concerns about school nutrition, junk food in the classrooms, candy used as rewards, etc., you should do something about it. Here's one example of a grassroots effort.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
my favorite food critic
I send my son's lunch to school with him each day. Some days he even eats it. Well, he always eats it, it's just that sometimes he doesn't eat it until he gets home from school, because he's too busy talking with his friends during lunch time. Sigh.
For those who don't know us, my son goes by his nickname, the goob. The goob's consumption record has gone up lately. This phenomena coincides with the purchase of an insulated stainless steel food canister. Now his favorite foods stay hot until lunch time. (And, if you're wondering why I got the insulated thing that looks like it's for drinks, instead of a short wide one, it's because I stumbled upon it while shopping for a raincoat for my husband, and it was cheap and cool looking and not lined with plastic. The goob doesn't care what shape it is.)
My son is a vegetarian. Or, he thinks he is. In actuality he will eat turkey jerky and bacon. Once he had buffalo jerky. And he's tasted chicken as a baby. I've heard tell his cousins convinced him to try a bite of hamburger once, but the rumor remains unconfirmed.
He came into this vegetarianism on his own, pretty much as soon as he started eating. He ate some pureed chicken early on, but soon rejected anything with meat or anything pretending to be meat, like soy substitutes. He was too young to know anything about meat, its origins, or the implications, but could always detect it in any dish. And it wouldn't be allowed entry into the cute little mouth, for any reason.
So, okay then, he knows something about his body that we don't. I am one to trust innate body knowledge. Animals have survived by honoring it for all of history. Who am I to challenge that?
One day, when he was two, he asked what his dad and I were eating. "Chicken noodle soup," I replied. His eyes got as big as my bowl. He peered into it and backed away slowly. "Dere's chickens in dere?" he asked. "Yes, dear, there's chickens in there." He looked horrified.
A few years later, we were babysitting a friend of his. Jack was trying to convince the goob to try some turkey. The debate went on. Exasperated, Jack finally said, "But why won't you eat it? It's yummy!" to which the goob replied, "As soon as I started learning about animals, I decided I want to protect them, not eat them." Jack looked at him and said, "Oh. I like to eat them."
Why the goob will eat teriyaki turkey jerky, however, is an unknown. Why he will eat bacon is not an unknown. It's bacon. Who doesn't want to eat bacon?
For those who don't know us, my son goes by his nickname, the goob. The goob's consumption record has gone up lately. This phenomena coincides with the purchase of an insulated stainless steel food canister. Now his favorite foods stay hot until lunch time. (And, if you're wondering why I got the insulated thing that looks like it's for drinks, instead of a short wide one, it's because I stumbled upon it while shopping for a raincoat for my husband, and it was cheap and cool looking and not lined with plastic. The goob doesn't care what shape it is.)
My son is a vegetarian. Or, he thinks he is. In actuality he will eat turkey jerky and bacon. Once he had buffalo jerky. And he's tasted chicken as a baby. I've heard tell his cousins convinced him to try a bite of hamburger once, but the rumor remains unconfirmed.
He came into this vegetarianism on his own, pretty much as soon as he started eating. He ate some pureed chicken early on, but soon rejected anything with meat or anything pretending to be meat, like soy substitutes. He was too young to know anything about meat, its origins, or the implications, but could always detect it in any dish. And it wouldn't be allowed entry into the cute little mouth, for any reason.
So, okay then, he knows something about his body that we don't. I am one to trust innate body knowledge. Animals have survived by honoring it for all of history. Who am I to challenge that?
One day, when he was two, he asked what his dad and I were eating. "Chicken noodle soup," I replied. His eyes got as big as my bowl. He peered into it and backed away slowly. "Dere's chickens in dere?" he asked. "Yes, dear, there's chickens in there." He looked horrified.
A few years later, we were babysitting a friend of his. Jack was trying to convince the goob to try some turkey. The debate went on. Exasperated, Jack finally said, "But why won't you eat it? It's yummy!" to which the goob replied, "As soon as I started learning about animals, I decided I want to protect them, not eat them." Jack looked at him and said, "Oh. I like to eat them."
Why the goob will eat teriyaki turkey jerky, however, is an unknown. Why he will eat bacon is not an unknown. It's bacon. Who doesn't want to eat bacon?
Today's the day
Welcome, weary web traveler. I have no idea what took you off the beaten path and to my doorway, but have a seat. Lunch is about to be served.
