Pluck the chicken

Yesterday I was in a bad mood from about noon on. 

Oh, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason.
It could be, perhaps, that (her) shoes were too tight.
It could be (her) head wasn't screwed on just right.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that (her) heart was two sizes too small.

Just cranky.

I talked to Olivia on the phone and told her my kids were all bugging me.  She told me about Marcos's misbehavior and I could only laugh.  (I'm not sure it can even be called misbehavior when the child is that cute and your nephew.)

Because sometimes it's how these things go, on this day that I was cranky and everything seemed to be going wrong, Adam called to tell me he would be late.  Late.

Rats.

We picked up Braeden from swimming and he wondered why I'd brought all the kids.  I said, "Because we're going to get dinner.  What do you want?"

I vetoed all of their choices.  (I didn't know what I wanted, I only knew what I didn't want.  Cranky.)

We went to Safeway and I told them to get a sandwich.  Adam called and said he was on his way home, earlier than he thought and he was bringing me some dinner.  (Already? Things were looking up.)

Braeden made me laugh in the store.

We bought sandwiches and a strawberry cake as well.  (What happens when you shop hungry.)

Adam got home about the same time we did.  He had brought me fabulous cannelloni.  We had a brief but meaningful family home evening.  Adam talked to us about making scriptures our own.  Everyone read a scripture they liked.  It was nice.  My bad mood was dissolving but still there.  I know because after we'd had our cake and I was ready for the kids to go to BED, Adam said, "It's not their bedtime yet."

I thought, we're in charge!  Let's make it their bedtime! 

Everyone had an idea of what we could do in the remaining 20 minutes until bedtime.  Mark's idea was play pluck the chicken.

Have you ever played pluck the chicken?  It's a guessing game.  A person decides a verb and everyone else asks questions to find out what it is.  You just ask replacing the verb with pluck the chicken.  "Can you pluck the chicken inside?"  "Did you pluck the chicken today?"  "Do you know how to pluck the chicken?"

It's a silly game but since we've played it for years, it's our silly game.  We laughed and teased each other and felt triumphant when we guessed what plucking the chicken was.

Some days are no fun.  You feel unproductive and hassled and your favorite sunglasses break.  But here's the thing, you never know when you may be able to play pluck the chicken and find yourself deep enough into convivial family life that you remember what matters and what doesn't and you realize maybe you've just been being a brat and things aren't that bad.

All because of plucking the chicken.