I reach home from office this noon. On the menu is Chicken curry and rice. The brat, I am informed by daadi, has already had his lunch. Hunger having been accelerated one presumes by. the avian protein in the offing. Daadi, after a recent rather severe bout of food poisoning, has sworn off all protein, including the avian.
The brat pulls my ear down to his lips. "I wantu tell you somethink."
Please go right ahead, I urge him in the gravest tones.
He lowers his voice to a whisper. "I keeped one leg piece fer yu. Eat it." I hugged him, recognising the enormity of this sacrifice. Knowing well he drums up a riot if not given drumsticks. "Thank you love. I think I'll keep it for Pappa," I replied, knowing I wasn't hungry enough for a huge drumstick.
"Wai? No you ead it!"
But, perhaps Pappa would like a leg piece too, I proffered hesitantly. He contemplated the possibility for a long moment, torn between the love for the mater and pater.
"Next time," he said, his voice grave, having reached an appropriate solution like the good king Solomon, "Ged a chikkin wid three legs."
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