Proe2: Yes! Hah! Gimme-gimme- gimme-hah!

He has his head on the floor and is kicking his legs in the air.

Me: What are you doing?

Prole2: I am dancing.

I carried on cooking, sausage and mash for me and Prole2. 
Prole1 gets a veg pie because when he was four he decided to side with the herbivore dinosaurs and never came back.
Recently it was revealed to him that sweets contained gelatine and he made me look it up on Google.
I am not falling for that one again.
Have you read how they make it?

Anyhow we now live separate dietary lives in my house.

I decided to be completely straight with the boys about where food comes from.
I know some parents don’t do this or choose a moment to tell their children ‘the truth’.
It’s like food is delivered by the tooth fairy.
It’s because we hate to talk about death.
I am getting more and more annoyed at the social acceptance that surrounds dressing your child as a rotting corpse every Halloween but parent’s complete inability to tell children how food gets to their plate.
It’s like someone has a vested interest in encouraging us to dress our kids as the undead whilst selling loads of purple, green and orange nonsense once a year, perhaps the same people who came up with the term “Happy Meal”. 
Ask the cow.
It’s dead and it’s not happy.
Animals die in our name and the only respect we give them is to put their smiling faces on the packaging.
Death is not much fun and say what you like, selling coffin shaped gingerbread or marsh mallows in the shape of eye balls is hiding something much darker.
Festivals of death occur across the world but this is the first civilisation that has sanitised death so much that we no longer think about it every day.
Halloween came about because people were freaked right out by death and wanted to pay respect to this universal, un-escapable certainty.
Go kill your dinner one night.
Death is not ‘a bit of fun’.
You will never look at a marshmallow eyeball in the same way again.

What do I know though? I’m still cooking sausages.

Me: You still dancing?

Prole2: Yep….just…jigging…dancing.

Me: Do you want any music on?

Prole2: No…just…practicing…

Me: Right.

Prole2 balances on one leg and makes sweeping movements with his arms, then hops round the room with his face screwed up.

Prole2: I love dancing. 

Me: That looks good.

Prole2: Yes. This is how girls dance.

Me: I did know a girl who danced like that once.

Prole2: Cool. Right put the music on. I am ready. I want to dance like Iggle Piggle.

Me: What do you want?

Prole2: YMCA please. I love to dance.

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