I don’t understand my son’s hatred of almost all things chicken.
It’s almost eerie and makes me wonder what I did. Because we all know that children’s issues stem from the mother’s screw ups, right? (HA!) I have my children’s therapy jar in the kitchen on top of the fridge, easy access to throw in a couple loonies every time I do something I just know will come up in their future therapy sessions.
But what did I do to make him hate chicken so?
This was his 100 day project for school, a story consisting of 100 words.
He decided that he was going to write a story about his day, and during that day he was going to do everything 100 times.
Brilliant! Love it! Adorable!
Then I read in his story, after he puts on 100 pairs of underwear (dudes, he’s a 7 year old boy, of COURSE there is going to be underwear in this story!) and ate 100 pieces of toast but was still hungry, the following sentence just underneath the bolded print, if you can see it.
So he ate 100 roasted chickens. Just kidding! He doesn’t like any kind of chicken except chicken nuggets.
He thinks it’s funny to mock my parenting pain, obviously.
Did I just call y’all dudes somewhere above? I am so going to embarrass my children hardcore when they are teenagers. **sneaks off to drop a toonie in the therapy jar for that one.**
Then, then my friends, the illustrations just about killed me.
They are so freaking funny.
No wonder he doesn’t want to eat chicken!
That is the cutest chicken I have ever seen.
He has no wings, poor wittle, cutie-patootie guy.
He’s wearing shoes.
He’s lying on a ..bed?? Serving dish?? Uhh… a scale to weigh babies?
And I swear he’s leaning up and looking right at my “stick son”, who also apparently has no arms/wings to speak of.
That is one chicken who ain’t getting eaten anytime soon.
Art imitating life.