It's Alive!
"I can't eat this. It was alive." Vandy calmly put down his fork and pushed away a bowl of bok choy and mushroom soup - a specialty of Dorie's that up until now, I thought he loved.
"Well, of course it was. Aunt Dorie grows her own greens when she can, and I've taken you mushroom hunting, so you know where both of those things come from." Right now I didn't feel like pushing my luck with explaining chicken stock.
"Yeah. It hurts things to eat them, and I don't wanna hurt anything."
"Well, nobody necessarily wants to hurt anything, but everything alive eats something else." This gave him pause.
"Plants don't eat anything," he said slowly, clearly thinking things through.
"They don't go hunting things like a tiger would, but plants need nutrients and stuff that comes from when animals die."
"So, they kinda do eat things. And you told me about that guy who proved plants had feelings. I don't wanna eat them."
"If you're not going to eat plants, then, what are you going to eat?"
"Stuff that wasn't alive." I held back a nasty crack about the meat at certain fast food places.
"There's not much you can eat that wasn't alive, Vandy. Salt wasn't ever alive, but you can't live on that."
"I'll be a nothing-atarian, then."
"So, you're going to eat nothing."
"Yeah."
"How're you going to stay alive?"
He thought about this one, too, scrunching his face up in concentration. "Ramen."
"Ramen?"
"Yeah. Ramen doesn't grow anywhere, and it's not alive."
"True, I've never seen a ... ramen tree."
"Besides, Aunt Dorie eats a lot of ramen."
"You wouldn't like hers, Vandy, it's got peppers in it."
"And peppers are alive. You grow 'em."
"Yeah, I grow hot peppers like what goes into the sauce."
Vandy looked slightly alarmed, and I realized he hadn't considered that things like hot sauce were made from plants which were, of course, alive."
"I guess you don't want any bacon, either."
He shook his head vigorously. "Nope. I don't eat animals."
"Vandy, you're well on your way to being a Buddhist," I said, sipping my soup.
"Is that like a nothingatarian?"
"Sort of, yeah. You'll understand it more when you're older."
"That's what you said about that Bates Motel show."
"Being on Bates Motel is a lot different from being a Buddhist."
"Oh." He nodded a little and smoothed the napkin in his lap.
"Dad? Can I have some ramen?"
"Sure, Vandy. Oriental flavor?"
"Is it made with Orientals?"
"Nope. Just soy sauce."
"What's in soy sauce?"
"Uh ... nothing."
"Well, of course it was. Aunt Dorie grows her own greens when she can, and I've taken you mushroom hunting, so you know where both of those things come from." Right now I didn't feel like pushing my luck with explaining chicken stock.
"Yeah. It hurts things to eat them, and I don't wanna hurt anything."
"Well, nobody necessarily wants to hurt anything, but everything alive eats something else." This gave him pause.
"Plants don't eat anything," he said slowly, clearly thinking things through.
"They don't go hunting things like a tiger would, but plants need nutrients and stuff that comes from when animals die."
"So, they kinda do eat things. And you told me about that guy who proved plants had feelings. I don't wanna eat them."
"If you're not going to eat plants, then, what are you going to eat?"
"Stuff that wasn't alive." I held back a nasty crack about the meat at certain fast food places.
"There's not much you can eat that wasn't alive, Vandy. Salt wasn't ever alive, but you can't live on that."
"I'll be a nothing-atarian, then."
"So, you're going to eat nothing."
"Yeah."
"How're you going to stay alive?"
He thought about this one, too, scrunching his face up in concentration. "Ramen."
"Ramen?"
"Yeah. Ramen doesn't grow anywhere, and it's not alive."
"True, I've never seen a ... ramen tree."
"Besides, Aunt Dorie eats a lot of ramen."
"You wouldn't like hers, Vandy, it's got peppers in it."
"And peppers are alive. You grow 'em."
"Yeah, I grow hot peppers like what goes into the sauce."
Vandy looked slightly alarmed, and I realized he hadn't considered that things like hot sauce were made from plants which were, of course, alive."
"I guess you don't want any bacon, either."
He shook his head vigorously. "Nope. I don't eat animals."
"Vandy, you're well on your way to being a Buddhist," I said, sipping my soup.
"Is that like a nothingatarian?"
"Sort of, yeah. You'll understand it more when you're older."
"That's what you said about that Bates Motel show."
"Being on Bates Motel is a lot different from being a Buddhist."
"Oh." He nodded a little and smoothed the napkin in his lap.
"Dad? Can I have some ramen?"
"Sure, Vandy. Oriental flavor?"
"Is it made with Orientals?"
"Nope. Just soy sauce."
"What's in soy sauce?"
"Uh ... nothing."