It all started with me calling my children ‘chickens’ when they were younger. I’d call them to the table with ‘Chickens, time for diner’. Silly, yes.

A few years later, one of the kids suggest that as the oldest male of the household, that I must be the Rooster! Sounds good, but no big deal there.

Jump ahead some more years and the boys are men and I doubt refer to them as chickens any more, but one has a notion that maybe being a ‘rooster’ wasn’t a big deal and maybe I was the head of the Familia … and that I was the God Clucker!

I love it! I claim it!

© Robert Wyatt 2019