We came home to the house smelling delicious. The crockpot had been cooking a chicken all day with golden onion soup draped over it. I was excited to try out a new recipe from a new cookbook I purchased from the hs convention. Everyone was starving, especially my 5 year old. He kept finding his way into the small kitchen, getting underfoot, and singing my praises about being the best cook in the world, and "Ohhh yeah....when would it be done?"

I finished making the mashed potoates, corn and creamy chicken sauce when we all sat down at the table. You would have thought it was Thanksgiving with the excitement of the food being placed on each plate. (The boys had played hard outside while I set up my yard sale at Mary's house.)

So, everyone was rating this dinner, which was rating 9 and 10 on the yummy meter, when Abram pipes up.

"Mama, Is this chicken?"

"Yep."

"Oh maaaan, this is good."

"Well good, I'm glad you like it."

"Yeah, I dont know where you found this chicken."

I laugh and say, "I had it in my freezer."

He says, "Well next time I find a dead chicken somewhere I'm bringing it home."

Dad stops eating, and says, "Now don't be bringing home any dead animals for Mom to cook Abe."

Abram responds, "Dad, don't be such a picky eater!"

thrill!