Grandpa is so patient.  He carefully and slowly explained to Nana that I have a soft mouth.  Nana knows this because I have chicken. Because I STILL have chicken.

After The Boy, The Girl, Toddie, Nana and Grandpa, I love chicken.  I have 1 chicken, 2 chicken.

I do not chew on chicken.  Chicken can go up the stairs and down the stairs.  Most of the time, I carry them but sometimes for no apparent reason, they fly off the top and I am surprised.

Most of the time I am surprised that Nana would fling chicken through the air.  This does not mean "Food FIGHT" - it just means that she has a mean streak and pitches them.

And just because she pitches them does not mean she will get a job with the Mariners. OR the Cardinals. She throws like....well, I don't know.  She would not be on MY team.  Grandpa would take her because he feels sorry for her.

Sometimes chicken get stuck in the pool flapper suck in thing.  So I stand up and put my left paw on top and put my right paw in and scoop out chicken so we can play the hokey pokey. Because that IS what its all about.