I like meat
We are carnivores in our house.
OK, technically we’re omnivores, as we explained to Rafael one day when he was asking about carnivores and herbivores (he’s really into animals and dinosaurs, so this comes up a lot).
But everyone — from grandma on down to Tiny (that’s what we call Markus because he was born at close to 10 pounds) — likes a nice, red, juicy steak.
In fact, it’s one of the few (maybe the only) dinners we have at which we are guaranteed that Rafael will suddenly show interest in eating at the table with the rest of his family. “I like meat,” he declares and pushes his plate to mommy or daddy for some slices.
Tiny shouts and points at mommy’s plate, demanding little pieces of meat. Once in a while he decides he doesn’t want it, after all, and flings a piece across the room. That’s always fun.
But I like steak night a lot, because we’re all sitting around, eating cooked flesh and Brussels sprouts (that, the kids don’t eat, but I figure they’ll learn to love them someday just like mommy and daddy and grandma) and having a nice, old-fashioned family dinnertime.
Rafael entertains. Markus gives his enigmatic smiles and we all laugh a lot.