I am brilliant. Or maybe not so brilliant since this hadn't occurred to me until now.
I can't stand icky squishy gooey raw meat of the non-slab variety. (Steaks and pork chops I can handle). I don't want to touch it or have it touch me in any way. When I buy family packs of ground beef I have been known to go so far as to promise special "favors" ,(ahem), to my husband to get him to separate it into smaller portions so I don't have to touch it.
Sooo, the other night I wanted to make meatballs, but as I contemplated whether it was worth the full-on meat to skin contact I would have to make to get them, I had a stroke of brilliance. My daughter loves goo and muck and slime. The more disgusting it is, the more she likes it. Why hadn't this occurred to me before? "Gabby!" I called. "Do you want to make meatballs? You can squish the meat in your fingers and pretend it's brains!" When she heard the word 'brains', she was all over it. And thus, we had very yummy, very well combined meatballs. Sometimes I'm so smart I scare myself.