My Grandpa gave the boys $50 for Easter, and being the nice mother that I am, I didn't keep it and spend it on myself.
We decided they could use it to go buy fishing equipment at Wal-mart. As you can imagine, this was little kid's dream plan. I wasn't so sure Big Kid would enjoy fishing, but he's been saying he wants to catch fish off of the bridge near our house and then eat them for dinner. I thought this seemed out of character for him, but was impressed he wanted to try.
I personally am not a fan of fishing. I don't eat fish (ever, fucking puke), so sitting around trying to catch and kill them seems pointless at best, excruciatingly boring and unnecessarily cruel at worst. I had fun watching the boys, but I'll admit that I was completely cringing as Mr. Ashley twisted the hook around in the poor fish mouths before releasing them again. I stayed quiet about it though and concealed my grimaces. Everyone had fun.
Today I picked Big Kid up from school and he said, "I miss da fish we caught yesterday. Dey sure were pretty."
I assured him that they did not miss him and were happy we released them.
"But what if someone else caught dem and ate dem?" I turned to look at him and he was doing the fast blinking thing he does when he's trying not to cry.
I explained the food chain and how bigger animals eat smaller animals and that's just how the world works, and I wouldn't be surprised at all if Big Kid takes up vegetarianism. He's distraught. I guess he thought it was just a grand coincidence that chicken the meat we eat and chickens the cute birds share a name.
So, I doubt he'll be eating anything he catches for a while. He also happens to be unbelievably squeamish. little kid scraped his knee the other day and as I cleaned and bandaged it, Big Kid was dry heaving and gasping about having seen blood. Seeing a fish filleted would send him into vomiting convulsions.
The other day he said, "My teacher said sometimes when you lose a toof, it bleeds. Dat made me bemember to never lose another toof ever again. It made me puke inside myself. I'm never letting anyone pull one of my teef now. Finkin' about it makes me go insane in my brain."
"That's not true. That doesn't happen," I started, realizing that if Mr. Neurotic decides not to lose teeth, the next few years could be difficult.
"Are you sayin' dat Miss D. is tellin' lies? She said dat. She doesn't tell lies."
"Maybe she's confused. None of my teeth ever bled. Your last two didn't. It'll be fine."
"I'm glad I bemembered to tell you dat--dat I'm not losing more teef."
He swallowed the last two...could he swallow the whole baby set? Knowing Big Kid, probably so.