It was dinnertime and I set the roast chicken on the dining room table. Everyone found their seats and I went back into the kitchen to get the potatoes. When I came back in, Malachi was hovering over the chicken and whistling.
“What’s all the whistling for, Malachi?” I asked.
Impishly he answered, “I’m whistling at the chickens breasts mom!”
Boy, I can’t wait till puberty.