A Food Story

Warning:This story is not necessarily very “clean”

This last Wednesday the boys and I were sitting down to eat lunch. Josiah made it to the table first, while I was busy washing Jacob’s hands. Soon after sitting down he reported, “Mommy I think Auntie (what he calls our helper) went poo poo in my soup.” I had no idea what he was seeing, so quickly responded that no she did not go poo poo in his soup and in just a moment I would be there to see what it was. Once Jacob and I made it to the table I began to question our helper as to what was in the soup today. We quickly discovered the source of Josiah’s distress, congealed pig blood. I had eaten it a handful of times before but we had not yet experienced this delicacy as a family. As soon as he knew what it was and saw me eat it, he quickly tasted it and said it was good. This was not the end of the questioning, however. I then had the opportunity to respond to a string of questions, such as: “Did auntie cut the pig to make it bleed?”; “Was the pig still alive?”; “Will you ever eat my blood?”; etc. It was quite the exciting meal.