The Prude and a little friend were reading a story before Thanksgiving.
A turkey plays a bit part in the story at the beginning, and plays it with charm, but The Prude was still worried.
When a turkey is introduced into a Thanksgiving tale it is seldom because tofu is on the dinner menu. How would her little friend handle the sharp axe of reality slicing through her glowing childhood world?
The Prude snuggled her little friend closer, ready to comfort her at the critical moment when the turkey’s head would leave its body.
But wonder of wonders! The author must have watched Bambi or read Beatrix Potter as a child. The turkey plays an impromptu walk-on role in the school play. Affection for him abounds and at the end of the story his warty head is still firmly attached to his scrawny neck.
The Prude looked in relief and satisfaction at her little friend.
Who looked back up at her in outrage and poked a small, wrathful finger at the last page.
“What? When are they going to kill the turkey?”
And The Prude realized that she was sitting next to a new breed of Hardy Girlhood.
A girl raised with animals whose main function is to feed growing children. A girl who has actually seen the birds and the bees in action. A girl who knows that the cute, cuddly bunnies will eventually turn up in her stew.
In short, this child did not cut her teeth on Bambi. She cut them on a nice turkey drumstick that only days before had been strutting around being charming and rehearsing, in futile hope, his entrance into the school play.