She was an only child born on a summer afternoon. A shy sort, she stayed close under the wing of her persnickety mother — the “helicopter” type who constantly fluttered about over her young one.
If little one wandered, she quickly corralled her. Her body language said: it’s a dangerous world out there. Little one heard the message loud and clear. Little one didn’t stray.
Three months later, little one’s sister was born — a darling thing with the sweetest face you’ve seen. This was a half-sister, born to another mother, from the same father. Surprise twist, you see.
However, the little sister’s mother was another sort. She was a gypsy-soul with oil-black hair and an appetite for adventure. When her baby was born, she followed her cues and nudged her gently, saying: you can do this, go on, go on!
Well, time has gone by — and the story is quite predictable.
The first only child, never allowed to stretch her wings — she still stays cooped up, most comfortable within the confines of the only world she knows to be safe.
The half-sister, though, she’s grown into her own. A self-confident girl ready for what life throws her way.
And where is their father, you may ask? I knew you’d ask about him. And all I can say is what anyone would say who knows him: he’s a cocky sort.
A loud-mouth, really.
Seems to think he has it all figured out.
But what else would you expect from a rooster?