You want to do what with that bird?

I have found that there are some things about my boys that are predictable.  That they will wake up between 6 and 6:30 on most days, that Ryan won't eat whatever we have prepared for dinner, and that Ethan will quite literally eat anything we put in front of him are things that you should bet on.  Also, like clockwork, if Ethan sees a car he will immediately point and say "CAR!" over and over again.  He is incredibly excited about each and every car he sees and wants to share his love of all things automotive with each and every person within earshot.  "Daddy!  Car!  Mommy!  Car!  Ryan!  CAR CAR CAR!!!"

One thing that I would never have predicted involved Ryan and a robin.  We got home last night around 6:15 after fighting traffic for almost an hour.  We had been discussing dinner and I had been messing with him, as per usual.  

"So, Ryan.  How do you feel about chili tonight?"

"No.  No chili ever," he said.  "I'll never eat chili."

"How about chicken?"

"No.  I'll hate chicken for twenty-hundred years."  

"Wow.  That is some profound hatred for chicken.  How about squirrel?"

"No, dad," he said, exasperated.  "No wierd dinners with animals in them."

"No animals at all?  Not even a penguin?"

"No!  I won't ever eat animals, especially not penguins!"

Eventyally we got home and he immediately unbuckled his seatbelt, jumped out of the car and took off running around our front yard.  This is nothing new since he typically has enough energy to power a small country, but what was unusual was the reason for his running.

I looked up to see him hiding behind a tree, glancing around the side like he was stalking something.  I asked, "Ryan?  What are you doing?"

"Trying to catch a bird," he replied in a whisper.  "Shhhhhh."

"Oh," I whispered back.  "Which bird?"

He pointed to a robin about 10 feet away.  "That one.  He looks good."

"Birdy!" yelled Ethan, pointing.  "Tweet!  Tweet!"

Ryan turned quickly to Ethan.  "Shhhhhh!"  

"Birdy," Ethan said again, more quietly.  "Tweet."

"Ryan?  What do you mean that it 'looks good'," I asked, slighlty confused.

Ryan snuck out from behind the tree and walked a little closer to the bird.  "It looks good to eat.  I want you to cook it."

"You want to catch a bird so I can cook it?" I asked incredulously.  "You don't even like chicken.  If I recall correctly, you won't eat chicken for twenty-hundred years.  What makes you think you'll like robin?"

"I don't know, I just want to eat it."

Great.  My son has gone from vegetarian animal lover to Ted Nugent in the span of ten minutes.  "I'm not going to cook a robin."

He looked at me for a second, smiled, said "ok", and then ran up to the front door.  I've been thinking about it a bit and I am still not sure if he was messing with me.  Part of me hopes that he was because that would mean that he is developing quite a sense of humor.  However a bigger part of me hopes that he wasn't because, quite frankly, I am not sure I can put up with that kind of crap for the rest of my life.  He's just going to get better at it.

I don't know where he gets this stuff.