I'm a Chicken Girl, not a Turkey Princess...Yet

My boys are always looking for pretty things for me.

I am currently using a leaf for a bookmark.  I have flowers and pretty leaves at various places around the house.  It's not uncommon for me to have rocks or nests on display.  I regularly sport a flower tucked behind my ear.

If the boys find it beautiful, they have to share it with me.

Today the two little boys brought me in a white chicken feather from S3's chicken...you recall the one that went to school with us?  Yes, that chickie is still doing well.

They gleamed joyfully as they handed the chicken feather up to me.  "For you, Moma!"

"Oh!"I exclaimed happily, "A new bookmark?"

"No!" S3 nearly spat out, shocked I would mention that.  "It's for your hair." (It was said "like duh!")

"Yah, your hair!" S4 agreed.

I wrapped my hair up in a pony tail and stuck it in the band.

The boys were so impressed.

"It's beautiful!" S3 informed me.

"But not pretty like an Indian Prin-preen-prencee...what's that word?" S4 asked.

"Princess?"

"Yah, that.  You aren't as pretty as that Indian girl" - S4 wrinkled his forehead in concentration - "Princess but...I'm not saying you look BAD, Moma, I'm just saying you don't look princess good."

"You'd need a turkey feather to look that pretty," S3 agreed.

"And maybe black hair.  But that would look....different," S4 added.

When S4 says "different" he really means "bad".

They posed for the picture and then ran outside, determined to find me a turkey feather so I could be a princess.

Because with this feather I am a Chicken Girl, not a Turkey Princess.  Yet.