dear,â said Mrs. Grafalo. âWe always had chickens on the farm when I was a girl. I had a pet rooster named Edmund. He used to follow me around like a dog. I do hope youâll bring your chick over to meet me.â
âHumph!â said Mr. Grafalo from the begonias.He looked up, but didnât smile. His bushy eyebrows looked fierce above his gold-rimmed glasses. âChickens! They belong in the country! Or in a stew pot,â he added darkly.
âDonât mind him,â whispered Mrs. G. âEnjoy the cookies. When you bring back the tin, Iâll fill it again. Give my love to your family.â
âDinnertime!â called Dad.
âOkay!â yelled Daniel. He was in his room playing with his pets. He lifted Jasper, his white rat, off his shoulder and put him back into his tank. Speedy, his gerbil, rolled past in his ball. Daniel scooped him up and put him into his cage. He held out his finger to Mr. Feathers, who sat chirping on the lamp. Mr. Feathers climbed aboard, and Daniel put him into the birdcage. Then he washed his hands and went down the hall.
Daniel made his move at dinner. He knew heâd have to be cagey. Not come right out and ask.
He started while Dad dished up the tofu meat loaf. Dad liked to cook vegetarian meals. He worked at home, running a website called âEco-Dad.â Daniel thought it had something to do with recycling. Or the environment. Or both.
âLast night I saw a TV show about keeping chickensin your backyard,â Daniel said. He handed a plate to Kelsey, his seven-year-old sister.
Dad nodded. Dad, like Daniel, wore glasses. They steamed up as he spooned a scoop of lima beans onto Emmyâs plate. Emmy was four. She went to preschool.
âIâve heard about that,â Dad said. He took off his glasses. He cleaned them on his napkin. âPeople raise backyard chickens for the eggs.â
Mom speared a slice of tofu meat loaf with her fork. Mom was an X-ray nurse. Her job kept her busy, but she tried to be home to eat dinner with the family every night. âChickens are messy,â she said. She handed the meat loaf to Daniel.
âNo, really, Mom. Itâs a good idea. They eat bugs that get in the vegetable garden,â Daniel said. He stirred his lima beans into his mashed turnips. He did not like lima beans. Stirring them into the turnips made them easier to eat.
âChickens are smelly,â said Mom. She unfolded a napkin and tucked it under Emmyâs chin.
âSustainable food,â said Dad, taking a bite of turnips. âOrganic eggs. Eat local. Save money.â Dadâs eyes shone. Count on Dad to get excited about new ideas.
âYum. Fried chicken,â said Tyler. He talked with his mouth full. Trust Tyler. He was in middle school. He always had something snarky to say.
âNo!â said Kelsey. âChickens could be pets. If we had chickens, we could name them.â Daniel smiled at her. Kelsey shared his love for animals, and for naming things.
âMe too! I want chickens, too!â yelled Emmy, waving her spoon. She hit her glass of milk. It tipped over.
Dad mopped up the spilled milk. âItâs something Iâve considered. Fresh eggs. Manure to fertilize the garden. And chickens keep the bugs down. Without toxic pesticides.â
Good! Dad was on his side. Now it was time to convince Mom. âMrs. Lopez said our class is going to hatch chicks. She said I could bring one home if I have two dollars and a note from my parents.â He looked at Mom and smiled a cheesy smile.
Mom didnât even blink. âNo more animals,â she said, just like she always did. âDad and I have enough to do with our jobs and with the four of you. And what about the pets you already own?â
âI take care of them!â said Daniel. He thought about Jasper, Speedy, and Mr. Feathers. And his tank of guppies. Uh-oh. Had he remembered to feed them?
âI fed your
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