What'd she tell
you this time?"
"She said if I stand 'hind the door and eat a chicken foot,
it'll make me pretty!"
"Goodness me! I'd forgotten that old saying."
"Can I do it, Mama?"
"You can try it, if you want to. That is, if the old
rooster's feet haven't boiled all to pieces."
I followed Mama over to the cook stove and watched her lift
the cover off the stew pot. White steam whoofed up, but she
jerked her head back before it could get on her face. With a big
spoon, she started stirring through the hot simmering dumplings.
"Here's one foot. Well, here's the other one. You may as well
have both of them. But now, Bandershanks, don't be expecting too
much."
Mama put the chicken feet on a saucer and handed it to me.
"Careful now. They're hot."
"Which door, Mama?"
"It won't matter. Try that one."
She pointed to the door between the kitchen and the fireplace
room. I slid myself in behind it and squatted down to wait for
all the steam to float away from the saucer. Then I happened to
remember that Grandma Ming had said if I wanted to get pretty to
stand behind the door and eat a chicken foot, so I stood back up
again.
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