The chicken club

About a week ago, Offspring told me that he had formed a chicken club. Here's how the conversation went.

Him: Hey mom - I opened a chicken club today.

Me: Oh?

Him: Me and Flavor of the Month Friend are in it.

Me: Oh.

Him: Fernette used to be in it, but I kicked her out.

Me: How come?

Him: I dunno.

(silence)

Me: Oh.

(longer silence)

Me: So what does one do in a chicken club?

(other than lay between two buns, hardeeharhar ...)

Him: We're just chickens.

Me: Ok.

(end of conversation)

In the meantime, it turns out that being in his chicken club means that one must:

• love chickens
• flap ones arms like a chicken when angry / frustrated / irritated / grouchy (this is surprisingly annoying when he does this)

Optional activities include:

• walking like a chicken (head poking back and forth)
• bawking like a chicken

Today I worked up my courage and asked today if I could be in the chicken club. He said no ... then reconsidered and said yes. He looked squinty eyed at me when granting me membership though, so I think I'm in the chicken club probationary period.

Man, I love having a 7 year old. It just don't get any better than dis.