So, feeling like I do, is it any surprise Max came to me and whispered, "Mommy, I think I made a mistake with the popcorn. Come see."? He didn't see that from head to toe he was a walking advertisement for the mistake he made. Kettle corn clung to every square inch of his clothes and cheeks. A trail led the way back to the kitchen and this:

A good mother, especially good and desperate, is a resourceful mother. And so I called for help: "Chicas! Chick, chick, chick! Chicas!"

All three hens like popcorn, but Rosie is the bravest about coming in to the house!
Labels: Chicas



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