The Life I Did Save

I saved a squirrel today.

Well, I don't know for sure that I saved him. He may have lived without my help, but it didn't look like things were going that way. And I'm not sure of the gender, but in my head the squirrel is a "him," so that's what I'm going with until I find out differently.

Anna carpools to school with our neighbor. It was their turn to drive, so I watched Anna as she crossed the street, but then I looked down toward my neighbor's house and there they were, Anna's friend and her mom, standing on the street with a cat and a squirrel.

It's important to note that the squirrels in the Twin Cities are not fans of humans. When my wife and I were in San Francisco, at Golden Gate Park, squirrels walked right up to us, stood on their hind legs and basically begged for food. I assume it's like that in some other metropolitan areas as well. But not in the TC. Squirrels cannot run fast enough from humans. If I look in my backyard in the summer, I'll usually see a couple squirrels running around, but when I go out there with the kids, they are nowhere to be seen. So it's a big deal that this squirrel was just walking slowly around two humans on the road.

I walked over there with Anna and checked it out. The cat was just following the squirrel around. Not swatting at him or trying to eat him, as far as I could tell. She was just watching, probably weirded out as we were by the fact that he wasn't running away.

The squirrel seemed to be limping a bit, and after a while we noticed that his hands (or at least one of them) were swollen and red and he had a large lump on his back. Anna and her friend got really close to him and I was worried about rabies, what with our bat experience in the fall. (Holy crap! I forgot to write about our bat experience! I should totally do that.) I suggested they stay a bit further away, but I couldn't blame them for wanting to get close. He was cute and squirrels always run away. Hell, I even wanted to pet the little guy. But instead I ran to my house, got our recycling bin and a piece of an apple. (Do squirrels eat apples? I don't know.)

I was sort of expecting him to run away from me when I approached, but he just sat in the middle of the road and didn't move a muscle. I put the bin on its side on the road and asked him nicely to get in. He didn't. So I moved it right up to him and gave him a gentle pat on the butt with my boot. He crawled in and cowered in the corner. He didn't make an attempt to climb out or anything.

The cat watched all of this from the side of the road.

I brought him into my porch and gave him a little piece of bread, just in case he wanted some carbs. He just huddled in the corner of the bin, scared shitless.

He almost didn't even look like a squirrel to me, he was so still. I went inside and called the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. They said to bring him in, so I did.

On the way there, I kept glancing in the rearview mirror at the recycling bin, scared of two things happening:

1. The squirrel dies en route.
2. The squirrel, refreshed by the heat in the vehicle, jumps out of the recycling bin and starts tearing shit up.

Luckily, neither of these happened. I brought him into the WRC, they said they'd take a look at him. While I was there a woman came in with a box. "Squirrel?" I asked. "Duck," she said. I filled out a form and left.

Here's how I felt: Heroic.

You'll hear vegans say they save lives just by being vegan, but that's not really accurate. We reduce demand, but that doesn't mean there are animals on farms who won't be killed because of someone's vegan choices. Instead, the reduction in demand that vegans create would ideally cause a lessening in demand, thus lessening the amount of animals bought into existence for the sole purpose of being used as a resource. Unfortunately, animal consumption is still on the rise, so the 1% or so of the US population who are vegan don't actually create a net reduction in animals brought into existence for the sole purpose of being used as a resource. It's less of more of the same, instead of less of an equal amount of the same.

I don't feel, on a day to day basis, like I'm saving lives. And I'm not. So bringing this squirrel in has created a much different feeling in me. I'd imagine it's similar to what those involved in open rescues feel when they free animals from farms. "You were going to suffer and die, but because of my actions, you have a much better chance at living a longer life with less suffering."

It's gratifying and alluring. I also feel that it's also sort of ... I don't know. If we're serious about respecting animal interests, then I think the best thing we could do right now is to challenge speciesism on a daily basis with our every-day actions. If we want to built a serious movement, then we need to show that a life without animal exploitation is possible and help people to take the view that animals are moral persons to whom we have obligations, chiefly among them the obligation to not use them as as resources.

This is not to say open rescues and wildlife rehabilitation aren't important. Indeed, to the lives they save, they are the most important thing (since they result in the lessening of suffering and the continuation of life). I guess I'm just trying to say that as long as we live in a society which so routinely devalues non-human animals and treats them as things instead of beings, we probably need to place most of our focus on educating others that, as Joanna Lucas from Peaceful Prairie Sanctuary (an organization that saves lives and educates the public on veganism) has said, "The value of a sentient life is not measured in its utility to others, but in its immense, irreplaceable value to the being whose life it is."

Another angle of thought that this all brings up: I've had a problem in the past with fully supporting wildlife rehabilitation. There's a part of me which thinks that if a wild (or to use a term more accurate: free living) animal is harmed, then that's just part of the life cycle and some predator somewhere will be better off for it. I have felt that by interfering, even to save these animals, we potentially harm ecosystems.

But those thoughts sort of flew out the window when I saw this little squirrel who was obviously injured. I just wanted him to be OK.

I brought this point up to one of the people at the WRC and asked her how she felt about it. She said that there are cases where it's obvious that we shouldn't interfere. She said someone once brought in a mouse that she saved from a hawk who was attacking him/her. But, she said, when a rabbit is hit by a car, or a squirrel is injured by a cat (which may well have been the case with the squirrel I brought in), the injury is due to our interference. By trying to save these animals, we're negating a very small portion of harmful effects our presence has already created.

Because we kill squirrels all the time. About four years ago I ran over one with my car. I can still feel the crunch of his bones. Last year a squirrel died after falling into our chimney. I still remember the smell of death when a nice man came out to remove the carcass (we found out about it because we heard a grinding noise when we turned on our furnace ... and yes, I've since wrapped chicken wire around our chimney). We're responsible for so much unintentional harm to animals. When we have the opportunity to save one of those animals, even when we don't know how they arrived at the injured state they're in, I say go for it. 

I'm even thinking of keeping a box in my car in case I come across any more injured free-living non-human animals. 

And in case you're wondering, I'll post an update on the blog once I find out how the squirrel is doing. I hope to know next week. 

Being

I was explaining to Anna why we don't call an animal an "it" today and I said something like, "This pepper grinder is a thing, so we say 'it' when we're talking about it. But a dog, let's say Bonnie [our friend's dog], we know that she's a girl and she has a brain so she's a she and not an it. She's a ..."

"She's a being," Anna said.

I don't remember defining "being" for her, but I must have a long time ago. Anyway, I just got a kick out of it. I actually wanted to say being, but wasn't sure if she would know what that meant and if it would lead into another ten minutes of explaining concepts. Not that I don't love those conversations. I do. But it was almost nap time.

Her Mother's Daughter (and other Slices)

We went to IKEA yesterday and Anna went to this little play land they have there. It's kids-only. We drop her off and she has up to an hour there and then we come and get her. It's pretty cool.

Anyway, there's this loft that they can climb up to and watch a big screen TV. After she played for a while, she took a break and went up to watch TV (I know all of this because she told me). Here's the conversation we had about it:

Anna: I went to watch TV and there was a girl and she said, "This show is not for you."

Me: So, did you say anything back to her?

Anna: Yes, I said, "This show is for me!"

Me: That's great! And did she say anything back to you?

Anna: Yes, she said, "No! This show is not for you."

Me: Oh. Well did you say anything back to her?

Anna: I said, "Yes! This show is for me."

Me: Did it keep going like that? Or did one of you stop talking?

Anna: I stopped talking.

Me: And you watched the TV?

Anna: Yes.

Me: Because it was for you.

Anna: Yes.

Then I told her to give me a high five and commended her for sticking up for herself. She's assertive like her mom.

This is the kind of confidence I don't remember having as a kid. If I was in that situation I would have said, "Oh. OK. I guess it's not for me," and walked away.

I was never able to separate the concept of confidence from cockiness. I always felt that people who were sure of themselves were also full of themselves. I know now that I was wrong.

And I don't doubt that people will be wrong about Anna too, if she keeps up with this confidence stuff. She'll be called bossy or pushy or stubborn, instead of assertive and ambitious and strong willed.

But screw those people. She's awesome and I'm going to keep giving her high fives.

---

Before nap and night time, we talk about happy thoughts; things that Anna can think about as she's going to bed. Usually, it's something that she did that day, like going sledding or eating something she really liked. Stuff like that. We usually supply the happy thoughts, but lately she's been wanting to determine what they are, which actually makes a lot more sense.

Yesterday, one of her happy thoughts was flossing (which is something she just started to do).

Tonight, one of her happy thoughts was, "getting bigger and stronger."

---

For supper tonight: Toasted Sesame Kale and Veganomicon's Blueberry Corn Pancakes, which are my new favorite pancake. So easy and so fucking good.

I don't swear a lot on this blog. Maybe you've noticed. But I just did there. That's how good the pancakes are. I'm not going to say it again. Once is enough. But really, they're that good. For an approximation of what they look like, check out the photos here (mine were bigger than these, because I like big pancakes).

Anyway, Anna and Liam both loved the kale and the pancakes (which, oddly enough, went together really good). It was Liam's first time eating kale and he didn't even flinch. He just starting eating it like it was something he'd always eaten. And then he asked for more. He's a good little eater.

---

Do I brag about my kids too much?

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I was trying to explain the concept of glasses to Anna; how some people can't see that good and so they have to wear glasses. I could tell it was hard for her to understand so I took a couple photos to illustrate.

This first one is how it looks with my glasses on.


And this is what it looks like with my glasses off (and no, this isn't an exaggeration):



So now she probably still doesn't get it, but it might make a little more sense.

Slices

I have a running mental list of things to blog about, but they rarely make it to the blog. So I’m going to start doing posts like this one, where I just put a bunch of small (or not-so-small) slices of our life into one post.

---

We were driving in the car with the whole family plus Anna’s aunt Jessica. Jessica had some bottled iced tea with and asked if Jen (Mrs. Piggy) wanted it. Jen looked at the ingredients and said that it had honey and no thanks. So Jessica said she’d have it. Here’s what came next:

Anna: Is that vegan?
Jessica: No.
Anna: But you’re drinking it?
Jessica: Yes.
Anna: Oh. You not be vegan?
Jessica: No.
Anna: Oh. That’s wrong.

I swear, I never told her to say that. These are the kind of interactions that will ostracize her once she starts school, so I actually told her that instead she could say something like, “oh, I’m vegan,” or something less judgmental and confrontational.

We are pretty non-confrontational parents. I mean, we’ll talk to someone about veganism if they bring it up, and we bring it up if the situation is apt. But we don’t make it a point to tell people they’re wrong for not being vegan.

So … that’s our girl. I have a feeling she’s going to be calling us out on stuff that we never even thought of when she gets older.

---

Anna was looking at the “Grandma Rocks” pillow we got when her great grandma passed away and she was looking at the rocking chair, noticing how it matches the real rocking chair that we also got from her great grandma when she died. She started to make up a story about the picture of the chair on the pillow.

“I think they got the rocking chair because it was from a boy who died and they took it.”

“Who got the rocking chair?” I asked.

“The people on the pillow. They got the chair because the boy died.”

I got a little weirded out that she said “boy” instead of “old man” or something. And I didn’t see the connection she was making between the picture of the rocking chair and the real rocking chair we got from her great grandma. So I said:

“I think it’s just a picture of a rocking chair. I don’t think there’s a story behind it.”

She flips the pillow over and looks at the other side. “No, there’s no story behind it.”

And then I laughed and she ran to her bedroom. I made a point to apologize for not understanding the connection she was making and commending her for her imagination. The girl is too smart for me sometimes.

I remember saying things that made complete sense in my head when I was a kid and not being able to explain it clearly enough to an adult to make them understand. I hated that feeling (hell, I still do). So … I make every effort possible to understand my daughter.

---

Our friend Erin (Tony’s wife) was coming over to drop off our half of the CSA share and Anna said, “I really like Erin and Tony. They’re nice guys.”

Then she paused for a second and corrected herself: “Tony’s a nice guy. Erin’s a nice person.”

She’s been accurately using pronouns for almost as long as she’s been talking, but she’s just now realizing what they mean and how they work. It’s fun to watch.

A few days ago, Anna was snuggling with her blankey bear after a nap and I asked her if blankey bear is a boy or a girl or just a blankey bear.

“He’s a boy,” she said.

“She’s a boy?” I repeated, because it sort of sounded like she said that.

“No! He’s a boy!”

“Oh,” I said, “that would have been funny if you had said, ‘she’s a boy.’”

And then Anna laughed uncontrollably for a few minutes, repeating, “she’s a boy,” over and over. She got it and she thought it was hilarious.

About ten minutes later she walked back up to her bed and looked at blankey bear and said, through giggling anticipation, trying to hold it all together, “I’m going to say it again.” And then she did. Sort of. As much as she could have while convulsing with laughter.

---

I forgot to blog this a while back. I recorded this exchange immediately after it happened because I found it hilarious (I love the “memo” function on my cell phone).

A fly was buzzing around Anna’s bedroom.

Anna: Can you catch it daddy? And put it outside?

Me: I don’t think you can catch a fly, Anna. You either have to kill it or-

Anna (cutting me off mid-sentence): Kill it.

It was funny, but also a bit disturbing. I don’t have a problem killing house flies (or spiders, or fruit flies, centipedes, millipedes, crickets… you get the point) as long as they’re uninvited guests in my home. Usually with spiders though, we’ll catch it and let it go outside. At least when Anna’s watching. So, anyway, the fact that she was so all about killing the fly caught me off guard. It was hard not to laugh.

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Anna in the back seat of the car one day: “We better hold on! Daddy’s driving!”

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Last night on the way home from Royal Orchid (possibly the best Thai restaurant I’ve ever eaten at), Liam would look at Anna in the back seat and make a noise. Anna would repeat the noise and then they would both forcefully giggle for thirty seconds. Repeat for about ten minutes and that was most of our ride home. It was awesome.

---

Yesterday I gave Anna a science lesson. I used one of her stuffed dogs to illustrate that things fall. I held him up and asked her what was going to happen when I dropped the dog. She said, "I don't know." So I dropped it and it fell and I said, "It fell to the floor." Same thing again. And then the third time when I asked her what was going to happen she said, "It's going to fall to the floor!"

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes."

"How can you be sure?"

"I don't know," she said in her way that tells me she actually does know, but doesn't know how, or doesn't feel like, expressing it.

So I told her that she's knows because that's what happened all the other times. Then I told her that things fall because of gravity. Five minutes later we were both lying on the floor pretending we couldn't get up because we were on Jupiter. Then we got up because we were on Earth. And then I lifted her up and had her jump high and far because we were on the moon, all the while explaining that there is more or less gravity depending on the size of things.

She might have absorbed ten percent of what I was telling her. And that's enough for me. It's worth it. It's fun.

Kentucky Fried What Now?

Not far from our house, on University Avenue in Saint Paul, sits a Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Anna and I were sitting at the stop light yesterday and she pointed to it and asked what it was.

"You mean the red and white building?" I asked, hoping she would say no. She said yes.

I stammered for quite some time, not sure what to say. How do I answer her? Do I tell her it's Kentucky Fried Chicken? Because she's an inquisitive little girl and she might ask what fried chicken means. Am I ready to explain to her that people eat animals?

Sure, she sees people eating parts of chickens at family gatherings and certain restaurants. Yes, she knows more omnivores than vegans and has been visually exposed to all of the most common non-vegan foods. But there's an abstractness to it all. When she asks "what's that" and points to a hot dog her cousin is eating, I just calmly tell her, "it's not vegan .... but we have some great vegan stuff for you right here!"

I'm exploiting the abstract nature of language and I fear the day when it no longer does the trick for her.

"It's a restaurant," I finally said, "but we don't eat there because they don't have anything that's vegan."

And just like that, the conversation was over. No follow up questions were asked. No desire to eat there was expressed.

This happened on our way to Izzy's, an ice cream parlor in Saint Paul. They always have a couple vegan options of soy cream and/or sorbet. Before we went in, I explained to her that most of what she sees won't be vegan. We went in and got a sample of their chocolate soy cream before saying that, yes, we'll take a pint to bring home with us.

Anna looked at all the other varieties of ice cream and pointed to one of them, saying, "I want to try that one now, Daddy."

The day will come, maybe soon, maybe in a year or two, when Anna starts to ask the big questions. Why do other people eat things that aren't vegan? If animals are our friends, then why are we friends with people who eat our friends? Etc. Etc. Dot, dot, dot.

At what age did you first wonder the same thing about religion? Why are other people Lutheran and not Catholic? Why do those women dress like that? If Jesus is Lord, then who is Vishnu and what's the deal with those arms?

Veganism isn't a religion, of course, but the comparison is a useful one. Children are raised with certain values when it comes to food. Some kids start eating junk food at a year old. Some kids have a diet heavy on meat and light on veggies. Some kids have a vegan diet. These choices (like religious choices) have ethical, social and political ramifications whether parents realize it or not

"Remember what I said," I calmly reminded Anna about the ice cream, "those aren't vegan. We're getting the vegan one."

And just like that, the conversation was over. No follow up questions were asked. No further desire to try the non-vegan ice cream was expressed.

I've taken a hard line in my life against animal exploitation. I am against it. I want it to end. Completely end. I want there to be no more ownership of animals. I cannot force myself to shy away from this. I can't pretend like I'm OK with free range this or grass-fed this.

But it's my job as a parent to raise a daughter (and son, but I don't have to worry about Liam for at least another couple years) who can function within society just like I do ... preferably better than I do. I can only hope that she notices how Mrs. Piggy and I socially interact with omnivores (our friends, our family) and realize that even though we may disagree about how human animals should treat non-human animals, we still show each other respect and enjoy each other's company and love each other.

All of which makes the following question more important and complicated than it might seem: When she starts to ask the big questions, do I give her the big answers?

First Snowperson of the Year

Anna and I made our first snowperson of the winter yesterday. It was nice and warm out and our snow was perfect for it.


She was all about it, of course. She helped me roll the balls and pat down the snow. I set her up with tasks. Once the base was done I had her add snow to it and try to make it more round while I went and rolled the second ball.

"Daddy? What's this?" she asked and started carefully walking toward me with an upturned hand.

"That's rabbit poop, Anna. Just throw that over by the trees."

She knew it was rabbit poop. We followed some rabbit tracks only 15 minutes earlier and there was a trail of yellow holes in the snow with a little rabbit poop at the bottom of each one. She was fascinated.

"Birdies eat the poop Daddy?"

"No Anna, birds don't eat the poop. Birds eat seeds."

I think she was confused because we saw a big hole in the snow and ground earlier where a squirrel had dug up a nut. I explained why the hole was there and we followed the squirrel tracks over to a tree.

Poop in the snow -> nut in the ground -> squirrel eating -> tree -> bird eating -> birds eat poop.

I love thinking in two year old logic.



And yes, there is rabbit poop all over our back yard. Last spring I knew exactly where the snowman used to be because of the huge pile of rabbit poop left over. It's harmless I suppose, and well worth seeing those little buggers hopping around out there.



She's hugging the snowman in that one up there.

"Anna likes the snow," she says. On days like yesterday, I do too.

Vegan MoFo Day 30 ... sort of - Gimme a Break

Oh jeez.

I guess the running theme in these waning days of VeganMoFo is my inability to keep up with VeganMofo.

What can I say? I'm a busy guy.

Tonight I made some banana cream pancakes from Eat, Drink and Be Vegan. They were fantastic as always (though I should give credit where credit is due - my wife usually makes them because I seem to always ruin pancakes ... but for some reason I was successful tonight). We made the Celestial Cream from ED&BV too.

If you've never made this stuff, you really should. It's super easy. One block of silken tofu. One bar of margarine. About a fourth cup or so of real maple syrup (not that corn syrup crap ... I'm talking maple syrup, you know, from a maple tree). Some vanilla (1 or 2 teaspoons ... the more the merrier, I say). And there you go. Cream of the heavens.

I intended to take pictures, but they were scarfed down in just a couple minutes. We were all really hungry.

And I rolled up some GimmeLean sausage and fried it up like little links, because every once in a while I want my fake meat to remind me of something important: That I can eat the same old greasy shit without causing the unnecessary suffering of another sentient being. I feel the need to prove it about ... oh ... three times a week or so.


- - - - -


So, I think the best compliment someone could give me is walking into my house and saying, "It smells like a restaurant in here." I just love that. My sister came over with her son today to hang out and she said that as she walked in. She was smelling the salsa I had just finished making minutes earlier. It was actually sitting right by the front door because I had just finished eating half of it in the span of ten minutes. Yum.


- - - - -


I forgot to say that a couple weeks ago Anna and I were in the grocery store and she pointed something out and I picked it up to look at the ingredients. After a couple seconds I said, "Oh, no. We can't buy that," and put it back on the shelf.

She then said, "No, Anna doesn't drink cow's milk."

I know! I swear I'm not coaching her. I know that I've mentioned it to her in the past, explaining that when we say we're giving her milk it's almond milk or soy milk. That she doesn't drink cow's milk. But honestly, I've probably explained this to her twice at the most. And it was many, many weeks if not months ago.

Anyway, I'm a proud papa in case you can't tell.

Girls scream. Boys scream. We all scream for soy cream.

Last night I promised photos, a recipe and a harrowing soy cream story. I also said that I thought I may have made the best soy cream I've ever tasted.

Well, good news. Not only am I going to deliver on my promises, but I can honstly say, after tasting the hardened soy cream I made last night, it is ... I'm pretty sure it is, at least ... the best soy cream I've ever tasted.

But first, the harrowing soy cream story:

A few weeks ago I was thumbing through Veganomicon and came across the basic vanilla soy cream recipe. I looked at the ingredients, nothing too fancy. So I thought to myself, I can DO this! In fact, I have all of these ingredients right here already!

I broke out the blender that night, threw in the ingredients, blended 'em up and put it in the fridge to cool. Then I read the instructions on what to do next.

Wait, wait, wait. You need an ice cream maker to make ice cream? Really?

I know, I know, I know.

I don't know why I thought it could be so easy. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I was hoping you could blend it up and throw it in the freezer and somehow just will it into soy cream after that? It was not one of my brighter moments. But, I'm human. There are things that I'm just plain ignorant of, and as of a few weeks ago how to make soy cream was one of those things.

What would you do in this situation?

I ran out to the nearest department store and picked up an ice cream maker. Came back home and was all ready to make soy cream. That's when I realized I needed rock salt.

Is this story boring? Not quite harrowing?

Screw it then, I'm just going to skip to the part where I eventually made the vanilla soy cream and it tasted great. Oh, and I made my own magic shell mocha chocolate topping using Vegan Dad's recipie. That Vegan Dad. He rocks.

I was going to take a picture of the soy cream with chocolate on top, but realized that I could never get a photo as nice as Vegan Dad's. So go to that website I just linked to if you want to see what it tasted like. It was great.

Fast-forward to last night when I go for round two of soy cream making. I was already determined to spice it up a bit ... none of this plain vanilla shit for me anymore. That's old hat. I want new hat!

So here's what I came up with:


That's Mocha-Vanilla Soy Cream with Chunks of Chocolate Covered Pretzels in it Right There, See?

And here's the recipe.

Mocha-Vanilla Soy Cream With Chunks of Chocolate Covered Pretzels in it Right There, See?

Hint: Before starting, make sure you have an ice cream maker. Oh, and you'll need rock salt too.

Ingredients for soy cream:
1 cup cream of coconut milk
2 cups soy milk
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 box of silken tofu
2 tablespoons vanilla extract
3 tablespoons instant coffee (I used this stuff)

Ingredients for chocolate covered pretzels:
20 pretzels or so (the straight ones are easiest)
Vegan chocolate chips (about half a bag)
Few tablespoons smooth peanut butter (or not, it's up to you)

Instructions:
I suggest making the pretzels first (I also suggest making more than 20 because they are scrumptious on their own). Melt the chocolate and peanut butter together, then dip pretzels in the melty goodness. Place on wax paper (on a cutting board or cookie sheet or something). Put in freezer to harden. Cut up frozen chocolate covered pretzels into little chunks. Put back in freezer.

To make the soy cream, blend all ingredients up in your blender until it's all one color with no chunks. Then follow the instructions in your ice cream maker's manual.

Once the ice cream looks like it's about done, throw in the frozen chocolate covered pretzels and run ice cream maker for about five more minutes.

Place final mixture into tupperware and freeze. See if you can wait until it's actually frozen before you have your first bowl. My bet is that you can't.

Here's a closer shot:


So, the root of the recipe is Veganomicon's soy cream recipe. I basically doubled it and added stuff. I hope I'm not infringing on copyright or anything. How about this: If you make this recipe, you are legally bound to buy Veganomican if you don't already have it. Deal? Deal.

Oh, and the "bowl" is an old Corning tea cup that my parents gave me in college when they got new dishes. We only have two. I love these things. We use them for everything except tea. They're perfect for soy cream, since they provide built in portion-control. And my wife's family had the same dish set growing up. So it's a nice all-around reminder of youth.

But I digress. I can't wait to make more soy cream, even though the days are turning cool.

The End

The Kid Makes Me Laugh

Couple funny things that just happened in the last 10 minutes:

Anna woke up from her nap and we came downstairs after some playing on mom and dad's bed. She took her two favorite baby dolls and sat them in the chair and wanted to feed them. So she got a spoon and a bowl and pretended to spoon food into their mouths.

So that's all pretty normal, but then she put the spoon in babies hand and said, "feed Anna" and pretended that the baby was pretending to feed Anna food.

Atta girl! She's already creating metafiction.

I laughed at her, of course. Then she laughed at me and said, "Daddy laughing." She then said, "num num num" (or "nom nom nom" as I've seen it spelled) over and over and pretended to shovel food into her mouth. 

Atta girl! She's already misinterpreting why people are laughing at her. Well, maybe that's not so great. But I find it funny.

So then she climbs up into the high chair. And while I put on her bib and tray I describe the process by which I made the mashed potatoes I'm about to feed her. I finished with something like, then I mash it all up and you get to eat it.

To which she replies, "Yay! I'm proud of you."

It would be fitting, I suppose, if she started making sarcastic insults at age 2, but I choose to believe that her pride in me is sincere.

Speaking of funny, this photo of Anna makes me laugh really hard.

Sliver

Not only is it my favorite Nirvana song, but it's also something I removed from Anna for the first time ever today.

She had a moderately sized sliver in her palm for who knows how long and Mrs. Piggy saw it tonight. So I got out the tweezer and Anna held still and let me pull it out. She's such a trooper.

Anna's new word today (there are, in fact, many new words every day, but this is the one I like best): Cooperate.

Shake Your Buddha

I was singing "Shake Your Booty" today and dancing along to it (it wasn't a pretty sight, I can assure you) and Anna pointed to our small statue of the weeping Buddha (and no, we're not Buddhist ... I just like the form of the statue).

So now she's dancing around singing "Shake your Buddha! Shake your Buddha!"

Priceless.

Another Bun!

Some nights Anna will stay up for an hour after we put her in her crib, just talking and talking away.

Last night we heard her sing Hush Little Baby to herself over the monitor. Our hearts simultaneously melted to a fine gooey mush.

We sing Hush Little Baby whenever we need to console her if she wakes up in the middle of the night (which is very rare these days). We don't sing the standard lyrics though, we sing a version from the book by Sylvia Long, which encourages young listeners to find comfort in what's around them instead of things mom or dad promises to buy them.

Anyway, I digress. After she sang a couple rounds of Hush Little Baby to herself, she said the following:

"Baby. Tummy. Mommy's tummy."

What a smart kid!

That's right, fellow blogospherians, there's another bun in the oven. Kid B (as I like to call him/her) is due to arrive sometime in mid-January.

Mrs. Piggy isn't feeling so hot these days. Morning sickness and all. But we take it as a good sign. She had morning sickness with Anna, and she was born as perfect as they come (I'm not exaggerating, Anna scored a 9 on the APGAR and no baby ever gets a 10 ... as perfect as they come).

I suppose this means I'll need to change the name of the blog in January.

Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!

Just a quick note for my readers (yes I know, the plural is presumptive) in the Minneapolis/St. Paul metro, This Little Piggy Had Tofu will be featured in the Saint Paul Pioneer Press this Sunday. They're running a Father's Day feature about dads who blog. Mine will be one of the ten or so that they focus on.

I was interviewed and everything. I'm looking forward to reading the story, but at the same time I'm a little nervous about how my quotes will translate to the written word. The possibility of being seen as a representative of vegans everywhere stresses me the hell out.

I'll be sure to link to the story once it's online.

Oh, and a quick update on Anna's fear of me in a mask. Today I was wearing the get-up again (respirator, goggles, a black baseball cap and a white full-body protective suit), scraping the house and she pointed at me and said "Daddy!".

So at least she knew it was me. But she was still afraid to approach me. Which is fine. Because I was covered in lead dust.

Have I mentioned that I despise scraping paint? Well, I do.

Later on in the house, Anna could hear me scraping outside and she said, "Daddy's scraping Anna's house."

That almost makes it all worthwhile.

"Not Funny"

My brothers and their families drove many hours through rain, wind and ... more wind this last weekend to help me work on my house. The place was a zoo. Not only were there five dirty guys running around, but wives and children were all here, too.

Toddlers were pushed by babies, babies pushed by toddlers, my niece bit by a dog in the cheek (she's OK), a pillow was urinated on by a chiwawa, and Rampage World Tour was won by my brothers and I late, late, late on Friday night.

We're all just big kids.

Oh, and a lot of work got done. Can't forget that.

So today I was doing some more work outside (scraping, fixing, and painting the trim on our house) and I had my respirator and goggles on because the coat of paint that's currently on the house (and as far as we can tell, has been on there since the house was built 105 years ago) is lead-based.

Anna and mom were outside (not near the house, of course) and Anna saw me and got all scared. She got scared this weekend too when she saw my brothers out the window scraping and wearing the same get-up on their faces.

It looks sort of like this (I would have taken a photo of myself today to show you just how frightening I looked, but my hands were full of lead dust and window glazing):


So I took off the face gear to show her that it was me underneath. She seemed to understand until I put it back on again. She immediately lifted up her hand and seemed to summon The Force in an attempt to make me show my face again. She kept saying "no" and seemed really distressed.

We've heard about this before. Toddlers don't get masks. they don't understand that it's still the same person underneath. But we've never seen it in action and it sort of broke my heart. As many times as we explained it to her, she didn't quite get it.

As they walked back into the house later on I heard Anna say "guy" in the way she does when she sees someone she doesn't know. I honestly think I'm going to have nightmares tonight about my daughter not knowing who I am.

Later on I was still outside and Anna and mom were inside. Anna said, "Daddy. Mask. Off. On."

Jen laughed a bit. To which Anna replied, "No. Not funny."

Can you believe that? That's awesome! She's starting to get in touch with her feelings and understand what's funny and what's not. And that we laugh when something's funny. And that we shouldn't laugh when something's not funny.

Anyway, it just blew my mind. Every day she grows up and changes and becomes her own person.

And just to remind myself how much she loves me when I'm not wearing a freaky mask, here's a photo:

Hide and Seek

Anna likes to play hide and seek with me. It usually involves me standing in her room and then her running in and finding me, usually saying "peek!" when she does. But today she ran into our bedroom and proceeded to shut the door on me. I stayed in the hallway and heard what sounded like our closet door sliding shut.

I walked in and sure enough the closet door was almost completely shut. The light was off! She was actually hiding from me. It was awesome. If I hadn't heard the door close, I probably would have freaked out looking for her.

It reminds me of the time my mom was playing hide and go seek with me and my little brother Matt. She found me right away, but we could not find Matt. We looked for a long time and he was nowhere to be found. He was probably 3 or 4 years old at the time.

I can't remember how my mom found him. Maybe he was pounding the dryer door from the inside because he couldn't open it, or maybe it was the only place in the house she hadn't looked.

Anyway, our dryer is safely tucked in our basement, or as I affectionately call it, The Dungeon. The door to The Dungeon is always closed, and it will probably be locked once Anna gets really curious. The Dungeon is no place for a child.