One thing I worry about with kids is that someone in the family is going to be a vegetarian. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course, but I don't want to have to conceive and prepare more than one meal for any one meal time. Call me lazy.
But it might happen. Because of Austin.
And not because he's squeamish -- it's because he's grossing me out. He asked Julie the other day if people ate cats. She told him no. He nodded and agreed that the fur would be awful in your mouth.
And then I roasted a chicken and he ate both drumsticks. And then gloated -- gloated! -- about it afterward: "I ate two chicken legs! The chicken has no legs! He has to bounce around on his belly! Bok bok bok!"
I felt a little ill.