Show and Tell

Would you be surprised to learn that my my favorite grammar school tradition was the Friday afternoon Show and Tell? Well, it was.

Emphasis on the telling part.

Based on the behavior of many school aged kids, I have a hunch that most schools no longer set aside time for Show and Tell. What a shame. Show and Tell taught us not only to stand and speak but to listen to others speak as well. It followed simple golden rules.

1. If you did not listen to the others, you did not get your chance to speak.
2. Keep it brief. There was a room full of classmates waiting after all…

And for goodness sake, try to be interesting. (I always added that part in my head while waiting.)

Life skills…

How we labored over our weekly choice! Sometimes, we received a gift or came upon some little eureka and could hardly contain ourselves until Friday. More often, we reached the end of the week without a plan. Then, Thursday night included the great explore throughout the house for the Fabulous Friday Yakabout.

Blogging is kind of like that.

Sometimes, I happen upon some tasty tidbit and can hardly wait to spill it on the page. Other times, I stare at the empty screen and feel the need to whip out the bloggadoodle.

So which case applies today? You be the judge.
Because today is Show and Tell.

Debbie, do you have something to share with the class?

Why yes, I do...

...and it’s this.

Prairie Hens

Ok, technically old yard chickens. But these are very special old yard chickens. They are the ones that I yakked about HERE. After my meander down memory lane, I started thinking about those old prairie hens. I asked the Duchess what had become of them, and she directed me to the vast wasteland behind her garden shed. So I ventured out… and there… half buried in dirt like a forgotten memory, I found Mama Hen and one of her little chicks.

I learned something that day.

It is very difficult for a 48 year old woman to do the happy dance while lugging a 50 pound concrete chicken. I dragged them out, dusted them off a bit, and ran inside to get the shiny red Kodak. I think I might have been squealing.

En route, I worried that I would be forced by good nature to share my treasure with my sister, the poke bonnet pal of my prairie years. I admit to considering an offer of Little Chick in return for custody of Mama. Finder’s fee and all…

I needn’t have worried.

The sister grinned at me like I was a little Polish and promised me that she would put up no chicken custody battle. They’re all yours Debski. 

Now, what I will do with them, I do not know. Suggestions?