It cannot be debated that while babies look delicious, they should not be eaten. This hasn’t stopped my 3-year-old daughter Audrey from hatching a plan to do just this, however. She just can’t wait to harvest her baby brother for food.
AUDREY: “Let’s eat Zachary, Daddy.”
ME: “Oh yeah?”
AUDREY: “Yeah! Let’s sprinkle chocolate on him.”
ME: “Oooh, that should make him tastier.”
AUDREY: “Yeah! First step is to sprinkle chocolate on him!” (mimics sprinkling chocolate on the boy’s head)
ME: “Great! What’s the second step?”
AUDREY: “Next we pour the butter!” (mimics pouring hot liquid butter on him)
ME: “That actually sounds pretty good! What’s the third step?”
AUDREY: (thinks for a moment then raises her finger triumphantly) “Now some ketchup!” (squirts imaginary ketchup then strikes a victor’s pose) “Now he’s yummy! Let’s eat him now.”
So it was then that my daughter and I sat beside young Zachary and pretended to pick pieces off of him and eat them. We licked our lips, grunted like ravenous Vikings, and even debated Zachary’s tastiest bits (The belly—we both agreed the belly was the best part.) It was a real highpoint for us.
Because there’s nothing like familial cannibalism to bring the gang together.