Unofficial Dreams

Yesterday was my birthday. And it was super fun. I went shopping with my Mummy and my Emily and my Abby. And my Daddy and my James (Will was working). And then we made little pizzas and watched Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Classic. For all the whining and complaining from the younger three, they were glued to the movie. Of course. I knew they would, because that movie rocks. All this has nothing to do with my dream, but we're getting there. Be patient.

In between picking up Will from work and running to Sam's Club for groceries and a little free sample action, we stopped by the America First branch at CAL Ranch. After we did bank stuff, we decided to take a little looksy at the baby chicks at the back of the store. And they were freaking adorable. Oh my gosh. So cute. Little puffs of feather and squeaking. I mean, honestly. They were impossible not to love. I imagine right about now you're thinking, Chicks? Oh wait. Is that what - Is this your dream? A chick? You really want a pet chicken. Wow. I'm going to stop reading now. You are correct, reader (assuming you are still reading). A chicken is my new dream. Unofficially. Because, seriously, if a chick was my official dream - just no. That's a lame official dream. Official dreams are becoming a doctor and making a million dollars and supplying a small third world country with enough peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to feed all the people for the rest of their lives. A chicken? No.

But yeah, it's unofficial. I want a chicken. Apparently they're quite lovable, and you can actually have relationships with them like you can with dogs. They will respond to the sound of your voice and cuddle with you. Who knew, right? Throw in the free eggs and BOOM! You've got a deal! Even Mom's on board with this one. The only one who still needs convincing (and a LOT of convincing at that) is Dad. He says their gross. Obviously he has never seen a chick before, because they are lovable and precious.

Cute, right? Honestly. I love them.

Abby and I have been doing a little chicken research, because that's what it's going to take to convince Dad this is a good idea. Because it is a very good idea. Look at us, learning responsibility, taking care of chickens, saving money on eggs, nurturing lasting friendships - these are all good things.

I even have my chick (oops, just kidding. We don't get our own chicks. *cough we kinda do cough* I'm figuring Will and James will be interested for about two hours, and then they're basically back to me and Abs) all planned out. I want a Golden Laced Wyandotte, and I want to name her Gotham. Because they're black and gold. Get it? Like Batman? Gotham City? I love it. Mom shot it down pretty quick though. Apparently she doesn't want to "name them anything dark". Whatever that means. Batman is a beautiful story about rising above one's circumstances and taking care of those who are in need of your help. Sure, there are some villains. Sure, there are some plans for hostile take over. But it's a good story! It's okay though. I've got a back-up name in place. Bernadette. A good name for a chicken.

Aren't they precious? And that one on the left would make a very good Gotham.
I guess the one on the right looks like a Bernadette though, so it's okay.

So this is my un[OFFICIAL] dream - to own a chicken.