you can't make this shit up

I go to pick up ginny at the sitter's yesterday afternoon. she is in a bouncy chair fussing a bit and feeding, god knows what, from a bottle. s (the babysitter from a far away land) tells me (in her broken english) that she will bring ginny to the apartment once she finishes eating. fair enough.

b comes home and surprises me a coffee. we sit and chat until s and ginny arrive at the door. ginny's bib is filthy nasty! what the hell? s gives me the rundown of the day -- nap time, bottles, poopage.
"so what did virginia have for lunch today?" I ask.

"sweet potatos, zucchini, and whale."

"what?"

"ahhhhhh, sweeeeet potaaatos, zucchiiiini, and vale." (mind you, her english, not so good.)

b and I look at each other. words escape us.

"wh...wh...wh...whale?" my voice starts to quiver. I'm pretty passionate about whales (hence my trip to alaska to help study the cooperative feeding of humpbacks.)

she laughs. "whale. no fish. baby from cow. mooooo."

"do you mean (do I dare say it) veal?"

"YES!" (take it easy with the enthusiasm.)

I don't know what is worse actually. meat from my beloved sea creature or flesh from a confined and tortured baby calf. both VERY BAD! there is a reason why momma is a vegetarian.

ginny's nasty, meaty bib - straight into the garbage. s and I then had a "little chat." she heard my english loud and clear.