Moomin didn’t believe me when I told him I saw a chicken in the street.
“A real chicken? A real, real, one?”
“Yes! I swear!”
We parked the car and ran down to the corner… no chicken… my child’s faith in my word wavered… and then, there it was. Strutting. Squttering to itself suspiciously under its breath. We sidled up to it. It sidled away. To save it from being hit by a car, we tried to herd the chicken into a small fenced yard, but it was far too savvy.
What will happen? Will we see it again? Why is it here? Is someone keeping it for eggs, or to eat, or are there fighting cocks in the neighborhood again?
The best part: making Moomin crack up so hard he fell over when the chicken ran across the street and I asked him “Why did the chicken cross the road?” For a minute we were inside a joke.