Why is chicken called chicken even when we put it on our table?
Cow is called beef. Pig is called pork. Sheep is called uh....lamb, sort of!
I am a firm believer in children understanding where food comes from. We love to grow vegetables in the garden so they can dig up their own potatoes and pick their own tomatoes after they've watched them ripen on the vine.
But I've always struggled with explaining the whole "we eat animals" conversation. To my children, animals are pets.
Mostly I've gotten away with it due to the aforementioned naming conventions. OK, Seb is old enough now he's caught on to the game but plays along to humour me. Abigail, however, has remained blissfully unaware and that's the way I want to keep it for as long as possible.
Yesterday, the rug got pulled out from under me.
Marc roasted a chicken for dinner. It was beautiful. I put it on the table to rest before carving and when Abigail asked me what it was I told her it was a chicken.
She was horrified. She wanted to know where the feathers had gone. And where had the head gone? This looked all a bit too much like a chicken and too little like a chicken. She lost her appetite and wouldn't touch a bite. Of anything.
Now I'm not sure if I should rain on her parade and tell her about her beloved McNuggets. Thoughts?