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boston market

Act. 1 “The Middle Number”

Mr. Monk wondered aloud in the back of the car,

“What is in the middle of all the numbers?”

“Uh. Honey. We can’t know that since we don’t know what the ‘last number’ is.”  Taking a deep breath, I was all too scared of explaining the concept of infinity to a 6 year old while speeding towards the gymnastics practice.  (Not for me. I can only wish. For my oldest).

“Well, I think it is ZERO. Because you know, there are negative 1, 2, 3…”

 

Act 2. “Black and White Chicken”

We were having Boston Market.   To my kids, Boston Market is one of the greatest treats, almost like Thanksgiving, only better.  Well, better for me at least.  Sometimes I am embarrassed by their excitement when I say, “We are going to have Boston Market!”  So easy.  Almost like taking candy from a baby…

I commented on how it was a great deal to pay $2 more for all white meat since nobody likes dark meat especially the thighs. 

“I wonder how they found black and white chicken!” marvelled Mr. Monk

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