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Okay? I think more than a few of you big families know what it means to be chicken bone hungry. There’s argument who gets the last chicken drumstick; and that last hotdog bun that fits that drumstick most perfectly. Put it together and it’s called Chic’N Dog. Don’t knock it til you’re hungry enough to try it!
But if you ever saw anyone who could probably win an eat a piece of chicken contest, my mom. My mama would eat all the meat off the bone, eat the gristle, then, the marrow, and by the time she’s all done, the bone is is a small powdered pile! (Exaggerating only a little). Nobody, I mean there is no one I’ve ever seen, can eat chicken like my mom!
I just had to share that with you all, but this silly poem carries a whole lot of truth and revelation for how being in a big family presented a problem many times when there was only one chicken drumstick left between lunchtime and dinnertime and everybody wanted it.