I'm sorry, Wilbur!
In which, at the tail end of breakfast, Charlotte (4) brings up an unfortunate subject, I give possibly the worst description of a gun in the history of parenthood, and Elise (2) panics.
Charlotte: "How do farmers kill the chickens, or the cows, or the pigs?"
Me: *relieved to my bones that we bought our hog from a local farmer and not somewhere that would require a much more gruesome and ethically-problematic explanation* "Well, it depends on the farmer, but for our pig, the butcher --that's the person who kills the pig-- the butcher came to the farm and . . . do you know what a gun is?"
Charlotte: "No."
Me: *wondering if Charlotte's lack of gun knowledge at four years old is a parenting win or a parenting fail* "Well . . . it's a weapon. You use it to hurt things. Guns are made of metal, mostly. They have a handle, and a tube on top called a barrel. You put small round balls into the top part, and then hold the handle and press a . . . switch, called a trigger, and it -- you know how if someone throws something at you and it hits you, it hurts?"
Charlotte: "Yeah."
Me: "Well, when you press the trigger, it shoots one of those small round balls --called a bullet-- out of the barrel really fast, and it hurts what it hits. So when the butcher went to the farm, he pointed his gun at the pig's head and shot one of those small round balls, one of those bullets, into the pig's head and killed it. It died very quickly. It didn't hurt much, and there wasn't enough time for the pig to be scared. It's one of the better ways to die, really."
Charlotte: "That pig should have run away. He should have jumped over the fence and run far away."
James: "But then we would have no bacon."
Me: "That's why we're really careful to not waste any meat, because an animal died to give us that meat, and we have to respect it."
Charlotte: "I didn't have any bacon today anyway." (she's not a huge fan)
Elise (with sudden, frantic earnestness): "The bacon is all gone! There's no bacon in the fridge! That's bad."
Me: "We did eat the last of the bacon in the fridge this morning, but there's still a pack in the chest freezer. I think."
Elise: *waving her arms* "The bacon is all gone!"
Charlotte: "How do farmers kill the chickens, or the cows, or the pigs?"
Me: *relieved to my bones that we bought our hog from a local farmer and not somewhere that would require a much more gruesome and ethically-problematic explanation* "Well, it depends on the farmer, but for our pig, the butcher --that's the person who kills the pig-- the butcher came to the farm and . . . do you know what a gun is?"
Charlotte: "No."
Me: *wondering if Charlotte's lack of gun knowledge at four years old is a parenting win or a parenting fail* "Well . . . it's a weapon. You use it to hurt things. Guns are made of metal, mostly. They have a handle, and a tube on top called a barrel. You put small round balls into the top part, and then hold the handle and press a . . . switch, called a trigger, and it -- you know how if someone throws something at you and it hits you, it hurts?"
Charlotte: "Yeah."
Me: "Well, when you press the trigger, it shoots one of those small round balls --called a bullet-- out of the barrel really fast, and it hurts what it hits. So when the butcher went to the farm, he pointed his gun at the pig's head and shot one of those small round balls, one of those bullets, into the pig's head and killed it. It died very quickly. It didn't hurt much, and there wasn't enough time for the pig to be scared. It's one of the better ways to die, really."
Charlotte: "That pig should have run away. He should have jumped over the fence and run far away."
James: "But then we would have no bacon."
Me: "That's why we're really careful to not waste any meat, because an animal died to give us that meat, and we have to respect it."
Charlotte: "I didn't have any bacon today anyway." (she's not a huge fan)
Elise (with sudden, frantic earnestness): "The bacon is all gone! There's no bacon in the fridge! That's bad."
Me: "We did eat the last of the bacon in the fridge this morning, but there's still a pack in the chest freezer. I think."
Elise: *waving her arms* "The bacon is all gone!"