I’m thrilled. My big sister commented on my blog! AND reminded me of a great growing up story….. One Easter (I think we were 7 and 9 maybe) some misguided person gave us two little yellow chicks. They were so fuzzy and sweet. We let them live in the basement in the middle of suburbia — I remember they sort of smelled but I ignored that because they were …so fuzzy and sweet.
They grew. Okay, now not so fuzzy and sweet, more gangly and peckish…. and smelling a little stronger. Then one of them started CROWING in the middle of the night. (NOTE: if you grow up in suburbia with an alcoholic mother and a restaurant running father, pre-dawn is definitely the middle of the night.)
For some reason, the crowing sent our mother into a tizzy. Totally unacceptable. I think something was said about neighbors complaining and breaking health code rules…. the chicks, er, chickens, er, chicken and rooster, had to go. Uncle Frank, with some nagging from Mom, whisked them off to the country to grow up, we were assured, in bucolic happiness on the farm down the road from their country house.
I’m pretty sure mine was the rooster and Mary’s stayed fuzzy and sort of sweet til the end.