Abby has a strong streak of compassion running through her veins, so it always surprises me how she views animals. They are, simply put, animals. I'm the opposite; adults can take care of themselves (generally), while animals are subject to our whims and suffer for it. A few Sundays ago, she held up this weird picture of a creature that had zigzags all over it. When I asked what it was, she said, "It's a pig. It's being cut up to make ham." "Oh! That's very nice, Abby." At her preschool picnic, I asked her if she wanted to eat a fried chicken leg. "Yeah! That sounds great!" A few minutes later she was licking the last bits of flesh off the bone (she'd never had fried chicken before. I guess she liked it.) and said happily, "Mom, I'm eating meat off the bones of a dead animal! But the bones are really fragile because it's dead." Huh. I hear of many children who refuse to eat meat when they discover it comes from animals, but my daughter, a kid who takes care of anyone she perceives as needing help, thinks it's great.