
Baby salads. Baby greens. Look at those cute red curls, look at those innocent green eyes.
I feel like probably every young parent must feel: ‘How da f*ck do I keep these alive?, Who decided I am allowed to be in charge of something living?’How am I ever going to afford tuition for all of them? Where do I get a decent nanny? I suck as a parent, that is evident. All I wanted was a one night salad. And now I am stuck with this. Set up by that vegan girl.
‘How da f*ck do I keep these alive?, Who decided I am allowed to be in charge of something living?’
Besides, this feels like eating veal or lamb, I am not equipped to be confronted with the real world of vegetarianism. Those cruel ways salads are grown and fattened, in small cages.
I just want to buy one that is all grown up, mature. One I can chop up into a ceasar salad without the nightmares of teary leaves waving goodbye to their moms. This isn’t working at all.
Carrots, I am switching to carrots from now on. And I’ll wear rubber gloves when I touch them, just to be sure.





She opened her eyes and stretched her back some more. If she was posing, it was as either the cutest political dissident or the most professional pet-market inhabitant.
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