A bone to pick

I never realised how easily you fall into old habits till I found myself putting the chicken bone on my mother’s plate.

That has always been one of my ‘thing’s, along with collecting a bunchload of random factoids, reading every single scrap of paper in the vicinity, obssessive cleanliness, a penchant for Terry Pratchett and being the man around the appliances at home. I like a clean plate. And when I was young, I used to pick off the bones and left over veggies from my plate and tip it into my mom’s.

And this time when she came with some chicken in tow, I ate the piece and tipped the bones into her plate.
And sat back expectantly, feeling 4 years old again.

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