part 1

When I was in Haiti for Micheline's adoption I saw people eating chicken feet and it made me rather nauseous at the time. Mariot, my guide, loved them and thought it was hilarious that I couldn't bear the thought of eating them. Something about those toenails or claws or talons or whatever the correct term would be...just reminds me of witches' hands on Halloween. Mariot used to tell me that Americans just didn't know what was good.

Try having your new son chomp on them in front of you and add lots of lip-smacking, bone crunching, "mmmm"'s, and "Do you like it, Mama?". I think I said, "No, I don't like them" at least 20 times as he giggled and crunched on yet another one.

Of course Micheline was not to be outdone, so she had to eat one too and add her "mmm"'s and "yummy"'s as well. Call me closed-minded, but I just don't see the appeal. No apparent meat to be found...just skin and bones, not to mention the thoughts running through my mind of how much chicken manure those feet had stepped in before they were chopped off to become my son's snack. The only saving grace was I didn't have to pay for them myself. Caleb had collected money from his "Hong Bao" or red envelopes that are traditionally given to children at Chinese New Year. You want the chicken feet, you pay for 'em buddy! I thought the idea of having to spend his own money would deter him, but no such luck.

Funny how cultural influences and comfort foods play such a role in our lives. He sure loved those chicken feet, but when we headed to Soup R Salad for dinner, he was hard pressed to find something he enjoyed. He pointed at most all of the salad fixin's and whined "Mama, me no like!" When that didn't merit enough attention, he kept pointing to everything on my plate and saying, "no like, no like, no like, no like." I couldn't resist...I had to grin and say, "mmmm", and "Do you like it?" He settled for a few bowls of vegetable soup, a hard boiled egg and some fruit. Four ice cream cones later--this from a boy who claims he doesn't like ice cream--he finally pronounced himself full and content to head back to my sister's house for the night.

On Saturday we drove back home to prepare for our own celebration at home. Caleb tends to get car sick easily and made the mistake of choosing to read as we drove. I could tell he was getting a little green around the gills, but he quit reading and then tried to sleep for most of the remaining 90 minutes. He muttered and moaned a bit as he tossed and turned, but I thought he was doing better and we were home-free until literally two miles from home he covered his mouth with his hand. He tried to holler to me at the same time, which sounded like "mmmfff" so I quickly pulled off the road just in time for him to open the door and let loose. I'm tellin' ya....it had to be those dang chicken feet!

continued...