Chicken - Little

Yesterday, Mom gave me chicken for my eighth month birthday (I was hoping for cake). It was the store bought stuff from a little jar, and was absolutely disgusting! I made Mom try it, too, to show her how bad it was (Dad said he'd take our word for it). You'd think the words "mechanically separated" would have tipped her off. So today, she cooked up a chicken breast for me and ground it (didn't like that either - I spat it out at her one little piece at a time) and then she blended it (finally, something I could stomach). It is a scary world... how's a little boy to know when it's safe to open his mouth?

I can now creep forwards on carpet, too (started yesterday), so there is no stopping me when I really want to get something. I really like shoes right now, especially those with laces. Mom had to re-tie hers over and over today.

(P.S. Today's title refers to how much I like chicken.)