I was marinating steak tonight and my daughter asked me what it was and where it came from.
A cow that died? Awwww, poor cow.
In our conversations about death we have assured each other that we will all take care of each other for a long long time. Mommy will take care of her, she will take care of kitty, and kitty will take care of Daddy. I could tell that she was thinking that perhaps the cow was like Michael Jackson and did not take good care of itself.
I was on the verge of breaking the news to her that the farmer killed the cow for us to eat, so I did what any parent would do. I left the kitchen to think about how to proceed without traumatizing her and then came back with the camera in case I did.
No, not really. I knew she just wanted to ask questions. So far I have found that the best approach is to let her think through things and to answer any questions but to avoid giving her too much new, scary, information at once. She understands already that we eat fish and chickens and I have had longer conversations about how some people do not eat animals, and that it is okay if she does not want to, either.
This excerpt is from part of a longer conversation. I mainly let her talk but from her body language I know that we will be discussing this a little at a time, for a long time. And sure enough, when I went bowling last night with the military spouses, Citrus surprised her mom by talking about cutting up cows. Have fun, honey!
(Toddler translation below.)
Translation:
C: Daddy? Before the cow died, what . . . did it take care of itself? Did it take care of the other ones, did they all take care of each other?
Me: Um, no, probably not.
So that’s why you think they died?
Well, the cows died. The farmers helped them die and then brought it to the grocery store.
Why did the farmers help them die?
So that people could eat it.
Eat them?
Yeah.
Why? Do you think…How did the farmer make them die?
I don’t know exactly.
Maybe it caught a knife. It cut them when it wasn’t dead. Cut cut cut cut. Up, down and made some meat and everything. That’s maybe what it did.
You think that’s how they made this?
Yeah.
Me: Yeah, and now we’re going to cook it?
Yeah.
Is that okay? We’re going to make fajitas or steak or…
We’re going to make cows?
We’re going to cook that.
We’re going to cook our cow?
Yeah. Is that okay?
Why are we cooking cows?
Well, that’s what this is made out of.
Cows?
Just like chicken is made from chicken, and fish is made from fish.
How can you catch a chicken?
You have to chase it!
You chase it?
Yeah, someone chases it and catches the chicken. But some people don’t eat meat, some people won’t eat chicken or cow.
{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }
You are a wonderful father, Mitja. I am impressed with your honesty and tone. She is very fortunate to have you as her father. My dad shied (and shies) away from all discussion of death, etc.
She is really delving but she is still able to laugh so she will be fine.
Bravo!
Loved this! I’m so glad you decided to tape this exchange.
Love it!
I guess I’m still hung up on the “help them die” part. Some kind of euthanasia program for cows? Oh, the moo-manity!
You’re a great Dad! I was waiting for the inevitable, “I’m not eating cow!” And when it didn’t come, it reminded me that parent-child interactions are rarely scripted. So bravo that you didn’t try to steer the conversation.
She is definitely one of the luckiest girls in the world. I am so impressed, Mitja.
Lol this made my morning…you could just see she’s still forming more questions for later…