Today Colin got all excited again about eggs – never wanting to eat one, just wanting to crack them and watch people eat them, talk about albumen and what it would be like to watch one smash against a person’s head. He made up a rhyme… something about yolk and poke and joke. Then he recited his version of Humpty Dumpty to us. And we cooked an egg for our neighbor to eat.
All the while, Gianna looked on.
And after everything died down, she told me with a grin on her face (the same grin she might have on her face when she’s 16 when she tells me she’s in love with the stoned surfer dropout guy down the street) that she would like to eat an egg.
All you veganism doubters out there are wringing your hands gleefully saying, “ha! The parents might be brainwashed, but their children are not going to go along for the vegan ride… and they thought they could control their children! It’s like a religion and their kids are saying, ‘we’ve had ENOUGH!’”
Well, fine. But if we were religious, our kids wouldn’t have a choice or a voice, would they? We’d be waking our kids up early on Sundays, brushing their hair, cutting their hair (for goodness sake), cutting their nails, dressing them up in cute little outfits, stuffing their faces with whatever food religious people eat on Sunday mornings, shoving them into the car, sitting in church for God knows how long or shuffling them over to Sunday School, maybe giving them a little pat on the head when they complain or shift around or say they need to go pee. Would they have a choice in the matter? Would their questioning God’s existence be heard? Would they have to pretend they believed in God if they didn’t?
We vegan parents sat down with our formerly-closeted egg-curious daughter and talked to her about her choice, her interest in eating an egg. We were soft about it, we were thoughtful. We listened to her needs and her perspective. We wanted her to feel comfortable being honest with us.
Then we told her about how male baby chicks are sent to their DEATHS in dumpsters or grinders and egg layers get their BEAKS SEARED OFF and experience EXTREME PAIN in that process and they don’t have enough room to move around their ALMOST LIFELESS EGG-LAYING BODIES and they live their short lives in DARK CAGES and even if it says they’re free range it usually means that there’s a 3-FOOT-WIDE DOOR IN THEIR BARN that they don’t even know is there. (Notice that we left God’s wrath completely out of this.)
And when we paused for a breath, Gianna said, “yeah, yeah, I know, I know. I still want to eat an egg.”
Maybe I should just send her to a vegan boarding school. They must have something like that in New York.
[Update: A few Eggless Egg Salads from Trader Joe's changed her mind. There wasn't a big fight about it or anything.]