Alright.  Alright.
I know I’ve talked about it before…. but gosh diggity-dang it…. I LIKE Chicken Eggs.  I eat them every morning.  All fried up in butter, with a side of ham, and grits… (or rice porridge)…  and an English Muffin.    I’m like clockwork that way.

But the fact of the matter is….. this girl goes through a lot of chicken eggs.

So right down the road, we have two farms that sell ’em fresh.  Thankfully for me.

They have a egg burglar on each farm… that goes into the henhouses… and kidnaps the eggs.  No ransom note or anything.  So I guess it isn’t kidnapping.  More like… well… plain old stealing from the chickens.

Anyway.  That wasn’t my point.

The other day I was buying eggs at the very nice farm down the road.  Two young boys came out to “greet” me.  They asked how many eggs I wanted.  I said…. “Three dozen if you got ’em.”  They nodded politely,  and started back toward the house.

The younger boy turned around briskly, and asked, “You want poulet eggs?”

The look on my face must have been painfully painful.  I had absolutely no idea what this young fella was asking of me.  “Uhhhnnnnn…..”

The older boy they smiled and added…. “Lady, do you want big eggs or little eggs?”

“Oh. Big ones.  Thanks.”

Since that time, I’ve had this on my mind.  As far as I’ve been able to gather from searching the internet…… a Poulet is a chicken used specifically for meat or eggs.  (Aren’t they all… pretty much?)

Okay.  That sure cleared things up for me.  Totally.

NOT.

So… I got large eggs that day… yet I don’t know if they were Poulet Eggs or not Poulet Eggs.  I don’t even know if I’m even spelling it correctly.

Or perhaps they have a Hen named Poulette.  A French Hen.

Or maybe… if the eggs are really, really big… they have to “help” the chicken.  So if it is….  indeed …. a huge egg… they have to “pull it” right out of the hen.  Hence.  All that squawking.

My feathers sure are ruffled on this one.

But, after all of that…..

I am simply reminded that we all have different things we are smart about in life.  You know about a gazillion things that I don’t know… dang it.  That is just the way our knowledge of the world is.  We each have our strengths.  Our fortes.

And sometimes 8 year old kids can teach us a thing or two.  Or …. ….. 88 year old kids.  Everybody…. EVERYBODY…. has something to offer us.  If only we are willing to listen.

“I’m not smart, but I like to observe. Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton was the one who asked why.” – William Hazlitt