HUMOUR. OR HUMOR IF YOU LIVE IN THAT PLACE WHERE THEY SPELL THINGS IN A HUMOROUS WAY.

I Was a Five-Year-Old Chicken

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Five years old. I’m pretty sure I was only five.

I’m also pretty sure it was my sister’s idea.

The actual bath involved in this incident. Beige was considered a very trendy bath colour in the ’60s. Don’t ask me who the children are. Maybe my older sister and one of my younger brothers. But honestly, I have given up professing to know anything for sure ever since this happened. Photo from the family album.

It all started at bath time and ended with me hanging my head in shame in the head teacher’s office, promising never to tell such outrageous lies again.

The only trouble was that I had no idea whether I would be able to keep my promise. Because it was becoming increasingly apparent that I had zero ability to figure out if someone was lying to me.

And I certainly hadn’t expected it from my parents.

But I promised anyway. And resolved to do a bit more fact-checking the next time my father swore I had laid an egg.

Could the teachers have handled this better? Let me present the facts to help you decide.

My sister, in her infinite wisdom, thought it would be a good wheeze to pretend to be a chicken. In the bath. I expect I joined in because when she flapped her…