We started reading a vintage chapter book called "Betsy-Tacy'"about two five-year-old girls who meet and become best friends. Last night, in one of the chapters, the girls were building a pretend home to live in on a hill. They spotted a chicken across the way, caught it and put it into a box so they could eat eggs in their new home. There was a small part in last night's reading that made you laugh hysterically. I love it when you laugh hysterically. It's so infectious and makes me feel happier than anything else in the world. You have a beautiful laugh. Anyway, here is the part that you enjoyed:
...Somehow it flapped and clawed, but they got it into the box.
But the hen was very angry. It glared at them with furious little eyes and opened and shut it's sharp little beak and made the most horrid, terrifying squawks.
"Lay an egg, chickabiddie! Lay an egg, chickabiddie!" said Betsy over and over.
But the hen didn't lay a single egg.
About this time, voices rose from Hill street. "Betsy!" "Tacy!" "Betsy!" "Tacy!" One voice added, "Dinner's ready."
"I don't believe he's going to lay an egg," said Tacy.
"Neither do I," said Betsy. "He isn't trained yet."
Just reading this again makes me smile. Between giggles you looked up and me and said, "Hens don't lay eggs for a year!" (Which made me laugh even harder.)
I love you,
|You and your guinea hen, Frankie, who hasn't yet laid a single egg.|