Don’t be Chicken

The sole reason for writing this blog is because Grandma Sue said, don’t you dare write a blog on this! How can I resist that direction?! We brought a little farm life into our city life today.

We like (and tend) to mix things up when Grandma Sue visits, and have talked for weeks now about the demise of the rude rooster in our coup, coined as Gecko by Kaden earlier this fall. As the leader of the pack and top of the pecking order, he fully resembles a total asshole, to chickens and humans alike. The noisier he became, the more we (and probably our neighbors) were ready for some silence. So poor Gecko the chicken met his demise yesterday and that was followed by a LOT of preschooler life questions, once the headless (and lifeless by then) bird was brought into the kitchen for plucking.

No, we are not monsters. The girls did not watch the transition to headless chicken (and neither did I, to be clear!). Craig and Grandma did the deed outside while the girls enjoyed a downstairs tea party, completely unaware. And I should clarify, so that I’m not in trouble, that my lovely husband efficiently and swiftly completed the task. A side note…did you know a headless rooster will still crow? Yeah, I didn’t either…but now I do!

Their faces!!

Anyway, everyone was quite interested in the process and if the chicken was killed? No one wanted to touch it but all were interested in what was happening, most of all Harper. To also continue to torment those reading this…a dead, plucked (naked?) can still crow if the chest is pushed down. Harper thought that was amazing; the other two and mom and grandma? Not so impressed.

Reagan was concerned about any type of blood from the chicken, which was minimal at that point, and Emerie wasn’t remotely phased by the lifeless chicken in the kitchen sink. Her main concern was that her favorite chicken, Pella, was safe from the same impending doom, which we assured her numerous times was correct. Grandma even had to show proof of life, taking her out on the deck to see the happy, clucking Pella wandering the yard.

All three agreed they would not eat Gecko and that Kaden would be sad we offed the chicken he named- PJ Masks reference…come on now! Even after said chicken was cut up and boiling on the stove with some spices, after a good hour of prep work by Grandma Sue; they all asked to see “him” and maintained their denial of ever eating him.

The girls are now telling everyone that Grandma killed the chicken and he has no head. Apparently she gets all the credit for this, since it’s common knowledgeable around the house that only naughty cats get cooked by her, so why not chickens? Hahahah. I love how stories grow as the girls get bigger…those kitty jokes sure do backfire! And I can’t wait to see what the daycare teachers ask us about this when we pick them up from school tomorrow! Who knows how much that story will morph from the actual truth, and it’ll be hilarious.

RIP Gecko. I’d say it’s been a good run, but…

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