Decked out in his camouflage jacket, hunting cap, and ear-to-ear grin, my son's friend popped his head in the door bragging about the deer he just killed. "Yeah, I got me a big one."

"Yeah, I got me a big one, too," I thought.

He's a big, misdirected teenager. As much as I wanted to commence a lecture about how he would like being hunted down with a pointy little stick, having it jabbed through his rib cage, and being paraded through the streets for passersby to gawk at, I tried a different approach.

I offered him a Chik Patty.

Before he sauntered in all full of him self, I had been whipping up the soccer mom special. The one where you stand hanging from the fridge door wondering what's to eat until dinner practically makes itself. The one where it doesn't really matter if each food is a different color or from a different food group. The one where it's on the plate fast and it's good enough. You decide to worry about healthy food tomorrow. If the neighbors drop in while the kids are eating, you just keep the conversation in the foyer so they don't see the boxes or cans. And I just happened to make one too many Chik Patties.

Please understand. This kid has eaten in my house almost as much as my own children. He's one of those friends. He's the kind of friend who is comfortable opening the pantry door and grabbing a bag of chips. The kind who smells good stuff coming from the kitchen and asks what we're having for dinner. He's the kind of friend who feels completely comfortable in this home that's not his own, but it could serve as such if needed. So, the fact that some of us in the house are vegetarian is not exactly big news to his juvenile ears. He's even tried a few health food store treats on previous visits.

But vegetarian "meat"?

I was sure he would spit it out immediately upon shoving it into his mouth gagging, faking excruciating death, gasping for a last breath. He practically swallowed it whole. A quick swipe of the sleeve across his mouth to clean up the few remaining crumbs and he was out the door, skateboard in hand.

Wow. Had I told him what it was? I couldn't remember. Had I explained that it contained nothing even close to his beloved meat? Not sure. All I know is he downed it as if all food on Earth would disappear tomorrow.

I could have lectured him on the cruelty involved in hunting; how animals have feelings and rights and how we should be considerate of them as living creatures much like ourselves. I could have gone on and on about the incredibly disgusting practice of eating dead animals, all the sickness this causes, and how you are so much more likely to be at risk for high cholesterol, diabetes, and certain types of cancers if you eat meat. I could have done this. I'm a talker, an opinionated talker, but I wanted him to feel comfortable being in my home.

I know kids need a place other than their own house where they feel welcomed and accepted. They need a place they can go if things get weird at home. They need a place where they have friends and positive experiences and love. I want my home to be this place, but that doesn't mean it can't be a learning place. My own children practice tolerance and sharpen their debate skills via their omnivorous friends. These same friends discover how delicious a chocolate chip cookie made with tofu can taste.

And this deer hunter friend of my son's? He burst through the door five minutes later looking for another Chik Patty.

"These are great, Mrs. O! Buy these again."

--Tammie, an at-home mother of four and vegan-wannabe, has her Masters in the field of Developmental Psychology. She enjoys living in her “mixed” family, part veg/part T-rex, and thanks very much her real life ovo-lacto niece for her I’m-gonna-change-the-world attitude. Her essays have appeared in Positively Woman and BusyParentsOnline.