The One Where I Teach My Son the Art of the Gnaw (aka, don't read this if you're a particularly squeamish variety of vegetarian)

I'm not much of a meat eater anymore.  Never was.  Not a vegetarian though, as sometimes I feel a little... carnivorous. 

When I was a little girl, my dad would take me to the Renaissance Festival.  Food, face painting, knights, princesses, fairies, jousting, crafts, swords, and more.  What more could a kid love? 

But the highlight was always the turkey leg.  It's exactly what it sounds like.  A leg of a turkey, brined and roasted to perfection.  (Is it fried? Not sure, don't care.  It tastes awesome).  I rarely eat chicken on a bone, but I'll tear one of these up.  This year?  I taught the kids.  The only one who really took to it was Sayer.  At almost 15 months, I think he has the art of the gnaw down pat.  See for yourself:

He's giving it a once over.  Think you're going to mess with me, Turkey Leg?  THINK AGAIN!  He said that.  Really.  Ok, he didn't.  Because he doesn't quite speak with complex sentence structure.  But he THOUGHT it.  Totally. 

He looks fierce, (channeling his red-haired Viking roots?  Perhaps).  And rightfully so.  That's the only way to attack a turkey leg.  I think he did quite well for his first year.  Right Dad?