So last night we were eating a rotisserie chicken for dinner. Camille picked up her chicken leg, held it in the air and exclaimed, "This was a real, real chicken, wasn't it?" When we answered in the affirmative, she grinned, "I sure do love real chicken!"
(As opposed to fake chicken maybe?)
2 comments:
Real chicken = intact muscle fibers possibly attached to whole bone.
Fake chicken = mechanically recovered nuggets and patties of horror.
Camille is very wise.
That's super cute.
My 3 1/2 year old nephew, is of course, asking what EVERYTHING is. "Auntie, what's that?"
When I reply with: apricots, medicine, Sugar Babies, cheese, you name it, he'll reply with, "I love your apricots!" -
Or, he loves my medicine.
Or, he loves my cheese.
Etc.
It's quite hilarious.
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