A vegetarian no more

Certain people may recall that dear Marshall, at the age of two or so, became enamored with meat. In particular, he was a fan of ham. I remember wheeling him through Target while he yelled for "HAM! HAM! HAM!" from the front of the shopping cart. This from a child who resembled a white-blond putto.

I don't suppose this would be worth mentioning except for the fact that we don't eat meat (I don't eat it at all and haven't for more than half my life, Jeremy usually abstains at home). Anyway, this little meat-crazed child was encouraged by certain in-laws, who always seemed more than eager to offer meat from their plates whenever we were out to eat. To say I was annoyed by this would be something of an understatement, but I tried not to overreact knowing that it would only increase the excitement of the illicit flesh.

Fast forward to this weekend. A form comes home from school asking if we would like to continue the vegetarian dietary restriction. As Marshall is now five years old and I had always told myself and anyone else who asked that it would be up to them whether or not to continue my own dietary choices, I asked Marshall what he thought. Without a moment's hesitation, he went for the meat.

I picked him up from school on Tuesday to find out that he had enjoyed chicken noodle soup for the first time in his life. His teacher reported in hushed tones that a certain little girl had been pointing out the fact that Marshall's meals had been different than the rest of the children's. He never mentioned this, but I wonder if being different in this way was bothersome to him. Today he proudly reported that he ate a MEAT hotdog.

I have to admit that I do feel a bit wistful about this turn of events. I shouldn't really be surprised though, because I never really explained to them the reasoning behind my own choice. It was always just that we didn't eat meat, period. That isn't much to cling to when the rest of the kindergartners are happily chomping on their hotdogs and you're stuck with a hard-boiled egg.

I resisted discussing it with them too much because I didn't want to be accused of brainwashing them to accept my own dietary choices. Now I wonder why I didn't try harder. Doesn't most of what we try to pass down to our children in the way of values involve persuasion when they are too young to know the difference? Why is it viewed as unquestioningly reasonable to raise a child in your choice of religion as if it is the only choice, yet I was so concerned that I would be accused of forcing my children to join me in turning away from certain foods that I didn't even try to convince them?

I suppose it isn't too late to discuss it with them. It may not change Marshall's tastes, but at least he will know that I am not denying them such obviously delightful foods just for the heck of it.

Geez, I certainly get thoughtful when I am avoiding work, don't I? I probably won't leave this post up for long, because its tone doesn't please me, but I know of a certain Spam Fan who will be glad to see that Marshall has joined his team after all so I'll leave it for a few days.