Brings to mind when DD was two years old and we went to a pig roast at our parish. I was concerned that she’d be traumatized by the sight of a pig being cooked to a nice crisp. After all, we were at that stage of reading a lot of books about farm animals and singing little ditties such as “with an oink oink here and an oink oink there...”
Anyway, I carried her within a dozen feet of the roasting pig and with my most benign yet upbeat voice said, “Look Sweet Pea, there’s the pig.” Her eyes grew wide, her jaw dropped, and I could tell her mind was processing the thought of Wilbur, poor Wilbur.
I braced myself for what she was preparing to say. After a moment, she said with excitement and not a bit of distress, “Dad...it has an apple in its mouth!” And at that point, I knew we’d be fine.
Now, if it were a gator roast...