My husband got a deer last weekend. Oh, the celebrations my kids had. The cheering. The dancing. The jumping up and down, chanting, "Daddy got a deer!" The questions of "Can I see it naked?" and "Can I help grind the meat?"
Now. I'm not a huge fan of deer meat - I like it when it's cooked all day in a stew or chili. My favorite thing about it? This year it's free. One whole deer, in our freezer at no cost.
Free meat, people.
I'm way squeamish about the meat, the grinding, the nakedness. But I don't want my kids to be. So I'm all, "Yaaayy . . . Daddy got a deer!" in front of the kids. I don't take part in the preparing of the deer until it's time to season it.
My kids? Love to help with that part - the preparing the meat part that is. Grinding meat with Daddy is a great high light to the hunting season.
So the other day, when we were out running errands and Sarah started in on a complete breakdown, I heard myself say:
Sarah. Stop it! Stop it now or you won't get to grind deer meat with Daddy.
People, she stopped. Immediately.
Ahh, discipline by deer. Thank you, Bambi.
the other day, I was desperate. Desperate. Sarah was having a complete melt down and we were in public.