(Guest post by mommy). Connor produced this phrase today. He was describing some elaborate scene he was going to create in a cave on Hoth (Star Wars reference, for the uninitiated). I was only half paying attention, because I had lost my keys somewhere between school and our car. But finally I got him to stop talking, and I asked him where he was going to create this scene. "No, Mommy! We're all going to make it! It's the family chicken!"
Say what?
Turns out he got a paper cutout of a turkey at school, with instructions that he was to decorate it, with his family's help, with anything he wished... beads, acorns, feathers, whatever. So he has turned this paper turkey, in his mind, into a sort of Sistine Chapel ceiling, on which we will all play Michelangelo, coloring elaborate Star Wars narratives. But he thinks it's a chicken. A family chicken.
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That's adorable! We had to do one of those turkeys with A. last year. What's up with that? We've got schools out there treating evolution as merely a questionable theory and yet all children have to glue lentils to a turkey with their families? Is there such a thing as selective consistency?
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