Mostly Bob

Nathan's friend Jonathan doesn't have any chickens. He lives in a condo. We decided he should get some baby chicks from the feed store and keep them at our house. He could visit them whenever he wanted.

So we went to the feed store to get two chicks (you have to get two, to keep each other company) and we ended up getting three because otherwise we were leaving one last chick in the cage and the feed store people said that was just mean, they were attached to each other. (They were only 3 bucks.) So we brought home three white chicks, which the kids named Bob, Brad (these are girls, by the way) and Floppy.

The next day was sunny, so I put the chicks in the sun, under a metal cage covering so they could dig in the dirt and still be safe, and relax. I went inside. An hour later I went out and there were only two chicks left. Ahhk! One lone feather from the missing chick. A cat must've squeezed a paw underneath, grabbed it and eaten it.

I tell the kids and Nathan immediately says "It's Brad that got eaten. Not Bob." His chick is Bob. I try to teach him grace and dignity. I tell him that poor Jonathan has no chickens. Let him have the chick. Even if it WAS his chick that was eaten, let him think that this is still his chick.

Nathan thought about it as he pet the remaining chick. "Well, okay. He can say it's Brad. But really, it's mostly Bob."

So now we have eight chickens: Kitty Bigfoot, Gigi, Chris, Big Red Chicken, Penny, Peet, Floppy and Mostly Bob.