Cannibalism Part II

It wasn't me; it was her.

She's started eating people. It really isn't anything serious, Mommy tells me. Tahlia just recently decided that she occasionally is going to eat people. She'll be sitting, playing with lions, or Weebles, or her retro Fisher-Price castle (the one I played with as a child. The one, quel horreur, that has the trap door that could actually catch a small child's finger. Yes, we're rebels, we not only encourage her to play with it, but we show her how to drop various people down into the dungeon -- can you imagine, in this day and age, a child of only two dropping people into a dungeon?), or wooden blocks made by Uncle Mike, and she'll decide that she wants to eat people. Who she chooses is always random. It could be Mya, or Sam. Sometimes it's Esme, but at dinner tonight, her first course was Brianna.

This was my first experience with the people eating, so I didn't really understand why Tahlia, after finishing her tortellini, began pretend eating something on the side of her dish. Nor did I comprehend when she said, "I'm eating Brianna," what was going on.

Mommy caught me up, and we all began playing the game.

An important component to the game is that Mommy always tells Tahlia that somebody is going to be sad. For example, since Brianna is the current delicacy, Mommy will say, "Oh, Tracy and Brian will be sad."

Sometimes, when Mommy doesn't make her statement fast enough, Tahlia quickly asks, "Who be sad, Mommy?" In an attempt to figure out whose heart she is breaking by eating his or her loved one.

As Tahlia munched more rapidly on Brianna, I asked, "Will Tracy be sad?"

"Yet."

"Will Brian be sad?"

"Yet."

"Will Tahlia be sad?"

"No."

"Oh," Mommy chimes in with a smile, "I forgot. Tahlia is never sad."

Tahlia is an empathetic child in reality, so I'm not concerned. For some reason, though, the eating of a friend, thus the loss of a friend, a friend who she will never see again, equates to no tears. I admire her moxy.

I attempt to trick her. Maybe there are people who she holds more dear to her heart. "Tahlia, are you going to eat Daddy?"

A smile sneaks across her face. She is voracious. She quickly scarfs down Daddy.

"Who is sad Tahlia?" I ask. I'm confident she will be sad. Why wouldn't she be sad for her Daddy?

"Mommy sad; Atter sad; Suki sad; but not Tahlia." The "not" is elongated and sustains to emphasizes its meaning. She smiles and looks directly at me with that big grin. We all laugh.

Two can play this game, "What about Mommy?"

Again, the eating. "Who be sad Daddy?"

I return the question, confident now that, if she isn't sad for Daddy, Tahlia won't be sad for Mommy.

"Daddy sad; Atter sad; Suki sad." Is her reply. I'm victorious.

Then, I go for the coup de grace. "What about Tahlia."

"Tahlia sad."

I'm defeated. And we all laugh. It's time for apple sauce. Nobody's sad for apple sauce.