Boobie traps and pig-backs. That’s what I said.

Sundays around here have never been eventful.  The most momentous thing that has ever happened on a Sunday is maybe once we all put on pants without drawstrings. 

This morning was pancake morning. Blueberry for the little dude and chocolate chip for Ladybug.  I had one plain, one chippy, and half of a gnawed on blueberry.  Because I was hungry and I’m pregnant so I can have as many pancakes as I want right? Right? And there was bacon.   Which, can’t we all agree is the best meat ever made?  Unless you’re a vegetarian and then you eat “facon” and that stuff’s not the best ANYTHING ever made so I don’t wanna hear it.  Everyone’s talked about how good bacon is.  I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like it unless they’re a vegetarian and even some of them say the one thing they miss is bacon.  So that settles it, no?

So it’s pancake AND bacon Sunday and we were (are) all in our pajamas and I had orange juice which turned out to be a big mistake since every time I bent over even one degree for the rest of the morning all the OJ came back up by the mouthful and then quickly went back down.  Ug.  But there was bacon, did you hear, so back to the good stuff.

My daughter’s dad is a vegetarian.  A “since the sixth grade” vegetarian, so it’s pretty serious you see.  We’ve been open about sharing our views on animal consumption with her and we always tell her what everything is that she’s eating.  He’s not they type to force her into any beliefs and  lets her choose her own items off of  a dinner menu weather it be meat or not.   She’s been known to finish off a meal and then ask what animal we just ate.  And we never lie like my mom used to do when she cooked liver (as if) and called it special steak.  Nothing special about that stuff, people.

Chicken is chicken, beef is beef and hamburgers etc.  (I think we’re lucky she hasn’t asked us what a hot dog is…)  She’s not fond of fish unless it’s in “popcorn” form and one whiff of tuna will make her pretend barf and eye-roll simultaneously.  But bacon… is her favorite.  And this morning was bacon morning, have I mentioned?  And she snapped into a crispy bit dipped in a little maple syrup and asked,

What’s bacon again?

Me: It’s pork, honey. Pig.

Her: Oooh, yeah. *crunch crunch.  And how do we get the bacon?  I mean, pigs?

Me: Well we buy ours at the store because it’s ready to cook.  But the pigs are raised on farms.

Her: I think I’d like to live on a farm.

JG: You know, Mama Betty lived and worked on a farm when she was a kid.  I don’t think you’d think it’s as much fun if you really lived on a farm.  There’s lots of work to do on a farm.

Me: Yeah.  Like waking up really early to feed the chickens and shovel poop and feed the pigs.

Her: (whispers) And cut off their backs.

:::BLINK::::BLINK:::

Her: You know. For bacon. *crunch.

Hysterical laughing, oj out the nose style and then we have to explain why what she said was funny and the little dude is even laughing like he knows what’s going on and we’re all crunching on our crispy, greasy, delicious pig backs wearing stretchy-waist pants on a fabulous Sunday morning before the OJ eruptions start and we put Goonies in the player and convinced her to look at Sloth because he’s just a nice guy who happens to have Burt-head and wonky eyeballs.  And she watches and she loves it and we love her and we all love bacon!

 

Yay for bacon?