It is commonly said that autumn is the season to read.
Not too hot, and not too cold.
Is it because itâs good to read outdoors in the cool autumn wind?
But autumn is also known as the season of gluttony.
Is it called that because there are many festivals in autumn that even commoners can attend?
Or does it signify gluttony as the reward for our hard work in the summer heat?
I can answer that.
Because of one simple reason.
The reason why autumn is the season to read.
The reason why autumn is the season of gluttony.
Itâs because!
âAutumn is harvest season!â
âSheeson!â
At my words, Ellis who had been harvesting potatoes with dextrous flicks of her wrists suddenly jumped up and shouted with me.
Although she was copying the metal bat, itâs fine this time because sheâs cute!
âYes, thatâs how it is. Everything that happens in autumn is because it is related to this harvest.â
âHarvest time, best time!â
Ellis made a noise of exertion as she stretched out her spine, and went back to her potatoes.
Even though sheâs a child, Ellis is already a veteran farmer!
The moment she tapped the potatoes with her hoe, they seemingly crawled out of the garden and into her hands on their own.
âAnd of you want to do something, you need to fill your belly first. In the spring you need to sow the seeds, and the summer you have to wage war on the weeds. So there is no time to read books or to eat!â
âI hate weedsâŠâŠâ
Ellis pouted as she channeled her resentment for weeds into her hoe.
The speed which potatoes came out got faster.
Weeds are powerful.
To a beginner farmer, it looks like ordinary grass, but weeds stick their heads out from absolutely everywhere.
Day, after day, after day, after day.
Every time their heads were taken and uprooted whole, but the next day they would show themselves in a different area.
There is no end to the war against weeds.
They appear anywhere, and exist anywhere.
The only time the war ever ends is during winter where nothing happens.
And thatâs not even a permanent end either.
Itâs simply a ceasefire until next year!
âWait, thatâs not the point.â
âDad, your hands are slow. Itâs fine to talk, but keep working!â
I was being scolded by my daughter who had at some point dug up more potatoes than I had.
âYou can only ever get things done on a full stomach.â
âMm, being full is good.â
âReading is only possible with food. They say books are food for the mind, but they do not fill the belly.â
âBooks are boring. Farming is more fun!â
Oho, how adorable as a farmerâs daughter.
âBut in order for it to be called the season of gluttony, there needs to be things to eat. If youâre hungry, you are not being a glutton, but simply looking for something to eat.â
âAnd so autumn is the season of harvest! Is what youâre saying, Dad?â
âYes I am!â
My little girl lifted her head up.
In her eyes were traces of disdain.
âThen get to work.â
My daughter pointed once at the potatoes she dug up, then once at the potatoes I had dug up.
There was almost twice as many in her pile compared to mine.
âSorry.â
âYou said that last time as well?â
âIâll do my best!â
She sighed like a farmer, acting unlike her age.
âDad was the one who said that we needed to harvest at least half in order for there to be no problems with our plans.â
âYes!â
The speed of the hoe in my hand intensified.
âWe need to finished the potatoes within the week, and harvest the corn and wheat as well.â
âYe, yes we do!â
âI worked hard even while I was talking with Dad so why did Dad not do any work while you talked?â
âIâll do my best!â
This is not me being scolded by my daughter.
This is simply one farmer criticizing another.
Digging up potatoes even while saying so, her talents as a farmer that already surpassed me almost made me fear for the future.
âLetâs get on with it!â
âYes!â
Thump! Thump!
The sound of hoes hitting the ground echoed throughout the field with no more talking.
Yes, this is the harvest season.
But soon the winter, the season of cold will be upon us.
Winter is cold. I donât wanna go out.
In order to not go out one must prepare firewood and food in advance.
Autumn is the harvest season, but there are so many things that need to be prepared it wouldnât be strange to call it the season of preparation.
âTo think Iâd have to prepare for winter here, too.â
I thought Iâd never have to prepare for winter after I was discharged from the military.
âItâs hard for us if we donât prepare for winter. It was hard for us last year too because we didnât have enough firewood.â
âItâs not like we didnât have enough firewoodâŠâŠâ
âNo! We didnât have enough! We didnât have enough firewood just because we had roast potatoes and roast sweet potatoes(1) a few times! So this year we need to prepare enough firewood for the roast potatoes and sweet potatoes weâre going to be cooking during winter, too!â
My little sweeties was increasing my workload for a strong desire for food. Just where had she picked up these bad habits?
-Winter firewood? The mountainsâre overflowing with thâ stuff, wazzit matter if we take some!
-Thatâs my big sis!
Of course thereâd only be one.
There were no traces of anyone tracking us anyway, and the metal bat was extremely unhelpful in childcare to the point where I considered sealing it in the shed.
âAlright. Then in order to do that, we need to harvest all the potatoes by the end of today.â
âMm!â
When two experienced farmers put their minds to the harvest, it didnât take long for the wooden box to fill up with potatoes.
âThere we go, thatâs todayâs quota done!â
âOwiewie done~â
My little girl going âowiewieâ as she clutched her back and leaned backwards looked very dependable.
âThen the promise?â
âAlright, today⊠is chicken!â
âSniffleâŠâŠ Iâm glad to be alive.â
Ellis likes fried chicken very, very much, to the point where I wondered if she had any Korean blood in her.(2)
I wanted to cook up a chicken a day for her, but for the sake of her future, it was still too early for Ellis because she was in her growth period.
âAlright, now should we go put our potatoes away in the shed and go out to the village to buy chickens?â
âMm! Big sisâll be happy weâre done early, too!â
Tch, I could have spent some quality time alone with my daughter for the first time in a while.
It seemed that my sweet daughter wanted to bring that damn metal bat along with us as well.
âI suppose we should.â
âMm! Big sis canât farm so sheâs looking after the house every day! Being alone is boring!â
âEllis is a good girl.â
âMm, Ellis is a good girl!â
I unconsciously pat Ellisâs head with my dirt-smeared hand.
Normal girls would have gotten angry that their hair was dirtied, but as a brilliant farmer already, Ellis was at MAX affinity with the earth and simply giggled happily.
âLetâs go!â
âMm!â
After checking again that Ellis had her bum firmly on the card carrying our potatoes, I started pulling the cart in the direction of home.
Three years since we had settled in a sleepy rural village, and it was a very satisfying life.
#2 Their story: A certain daughterâs story.
âOh my! Ellis! Have you come shopping with your Dad?â
âYes! Big sis is with us today, too!â
The auntie selling skewers in the market smiled as she saw us coming.
âOh my, Aruâs here too?â
âMmhm, Aruâs hea!â
Big sis doesnât get the chance to get out very often.
Dadâs kind but very strict towards big sis and he doesnât like it when she goes out.
Heâs stopping big sis from leaving the house while saying strange things like the worldâs peace would be endangered just by her going out.
âThatâs good, thatâs good. Auntieâs feeling good seeing all of mister Mellenâs little girls gathered together for the first time in a while. Now, here, a present.â
âThank you very much!â
âFank you very much!â
When auntie held out two kebabs, big sis very quickly said thank you and took them.
âHey, heyâŠâŠâ
Dad doesnât like receiving charity from other people.
But kebabs are meat.
Theyâre tasty.
I know that Dad cooks meat for us more often than other families but thereâs still never enough meat.
âHow much is it?â
âNow, mister Mellen. I just gave them the reject parts that arenât worth selling. Think of it as a little service for all the times you buy from me.â
âButâŠâŠâ
âDearie, mister Mellenâs so stubborn.â
While Dad was chatting with auntie with his wallet open, the kebabs had all disappeared into our tummies.
Dad could scold us for this later but the allure of meat is just too strong!
âShe said itza fweebie. We got something we hafta get so letâs hurry!â
Big sis tugged on Dadâs pants.
Dad scowled slightly but sighed, said to auntie that heâd buy lots of kebabs from her in the future and started walking through the market to buy chickens.
âEllis. Donât copy your big sister just because sheâs doing something.â
âIâm sorryâŠâŠâ
Dad wordlessly stroked my head at my apology.
âHehe~â
Dadâs hand is big and hard but it feels really good.
âWeâre here, the chicken store!â
âOh my, itâs Aru? Itâs been a while?â
While I was indulging myself in the feeling of Dadâs touch we reached the store of the auntie that sold chickens.
âOh my, mister Mellen. Youâre here again? You do buy a lot of chickens from me. You must be good at chicken dishes.â
âItâs more that I like them rather than being good at them, Mrs Rechell.â
âDadâs chicken is the strongest!â
âMm, invincible chicken!â
âI donât know what it is, but it must be really good.â
âMm mm!â
I nodded strongly to the chicken auntieâs words.
Fried chicken is the strongest. Itâs invincible.
Itâs the strongest food that nothing else in the world can beat.
Itâs unimaginable crispiness canât even remotely be compared to ordinary roast chicken.
And then, the moment I reach the chicken meat hidden underneath the fried coating, Iâm hit with an unimaginably powerful feeling.
Even more than when Iâm harvesting the crops I worked so hard to grow!
And then when Dadâs special homemade sauce is added on top, I can no longer escape the magic food that is fried chicken.
Dadâs chicken is perfect.
Itâs perfect as it is.
But when Dadâs sauce is added to that perfect food, it turns it to something completely different.
The fried chicken is already perfect as it is.
But itâs still perfect when the sauce does a 180° twist on its taste.
Meaning, a number of perfect dishes the same as the number of sauces can be created.
Dadâs fried chicken is a food that I will never get bored of, that will always stay delicious even if I eat it every day!
Hooray for fried chicken!
âIt, it must be really delicious.â
âEllis, drool.â
Big sis whispered into my ear as chicken auntie said so.
âSchlurrp.â
The drool that had gathered in my mouth had started dripping out without me even noticing.
Thankfully it seemed that Dad hadnât noticed because he was busy picking out what chickens to buy.
âThanks, sis.â
âWhat, itâs nothing.â
Dadâs kind but heâs very very strict when heâs scolding me.
I know why heâs scolding me but not being scolded is still the best.
Angry dad is scary!
âThis, this and this one should be good. Ah, this one, too.â
âFour in total.â
âBecause chickens should always be!ââOne chicken per person!â
Big sis and I shouted naturally to auntieâs words.
Chicken should always be one chicken per person!
Fried, roasted, boiled, everyone should have one chicken per person.
Then fights wonât break out.
Everyone wants drumsticks, but no one wants the neck.
But if you cook only one chicken, then someone gets the legs, and others get the neck or breast.
Of course chicken breast is tasty, too.
Itâs easy to eat because thereâs no bones, either.
But thereâs a massive world of difference between it and the legs or wings.
Thatâs why fights break out.
Chicken is that important of a food!
But if itâs one chicken per person, every problem can be solved.
Everyone can peacefully enjoy their chicken.
âSo thatâs why four!â
âSo that one chicken per person can still happen even if the grandpa next door steals one!â
The grandpa that lives next door comes to our house quite often.
And every time he does he steals away some of Dadâs cooking, which is precious to us.
Even if I know that Dadâs cooking is so good it canât be helped, that doesnât stop us looking poorly at the always-kind grandpa.
Ruining the one chicken per person is something we canât forgive even grandpa next door for.
âAha, so does old man Steon also eat with you?â
âGrandpa comes over like a ghost whenever Dad makes fried chicken for us.â
âThatâs nice, if even Steon comes over for it then Iâll also have to give it a try some time.â
Cockiooo!
The chicken screamed as it was killed by the smiling auntie.
There was no such thing as mercy in auntieâs hands which cut off the chickenâs head in a single strike.
Her skills as she beheaded the chicken and plucked out its feathers was something I couldnât ever hope to replicate myself.
If I dreamed of being a pro farmer, then auntie was already a pro chicken butcher⊠no, even beyond the realm of a simple professional!
âMister Mellenâs children are as amazing as ever. Most children feel sorry for the chicken when they see it dieâŠâŠâ
âThe children know the taste of chicken far too well for that.â
âHohoho. Although that does make them very good customers for me selling chickens.â
Dad seemed mildly embarrased, but Dad was the one who made me this way.
So everything is Dadâs fault!
Dad was the angelic devil who introduced big sis and I to the magic of chicken!
âHere we are, four chickens, plucked and gutted.â
âHere you are.â
Dad handed over the money to auntie.
Auntie took the money and waved at us as we left.
And now, that chicken was now ours.
Our dinner, fried chicken!
âTonightâs dinner is fried chicken!â
âUwoooooo!â
âChicken, our lord and saviour fried chicken!â
Big sis and I both let out shouts of joy at Dadâs words.
As our reward for working hard today, we obtained chicken for tonightâs dinner!
Right now⊠Iâm extremely happy!
Really!
Chapter 120
14. To the world of farming! (2)
It is commonly said that autumn is the season to read.
Not too hot, and not too cold.
Is it because itâs good to read outdoors in the cool autumn wind?
But autumn is also known as the season of gluttony.
Is it called that because there are many festivals in autumn that even commoners can attend?
Or does it signify gluttony as the reward for our hard work in the summer heat?
I can answer that.
Because of one simple reason.
The reason why autumn is the season to read.
The reason why autumn is the season of gluttony.
Itâs because!
âAutumn is harvest season!â
âSheeson!â
At my words, Ellis who had been harvesting potatoes with dextrous flicks of her wrists suddenly jumped up and shouted with me.
Although she was copying the metal bat, itâs fine this time because sheâs cute!
âYes, thatâs how it is. Everything that happens in autumn is because it is related to this harvest.â
âHarvest time, best time!â
Ellis made a noise of exertion as she stretched out her spine, and went back to her potatoes.
Even though sheâs a child, Ellis is already a veteran farmer!
The moment she tapped the potatoes with her hoe, they seemingly crawled out of the garden and into her hands on their own.
âAnd of you want to do something, you need to fill your belly first. In the spring you need to sow the seeds, and the summer you have to wage war on the weeds. So there is no time to read books or to eat!â
âI hate weedsâŠâŠâ
Ellis pouted as she channeled her resentment for weeds into her hoe.
The speed which potatoes came out got faster.
Weeds are powerful.
To a beginner farmer, it looks like ordinary grass, but weeds stick their heads out from absolutely everywhere.
Day, after day, after day, after day.
Every time their heads were taken and uprooted whole, but the next day they would show themselves in a different area.
There is no end to the war against weeds.
They appear anywhere, and exist anywhere.
The only time the war ever ends is during winter where nothing happens.
And thatâs not even a permanent end either.
Itâs simply a ceasefire until next year!
âWait, thatâs not the point.â
âDad, your hands are slow. Itâs fine to talk, but keep working!â
I was being scolded by my daughter who had at some point dug up more potatoes than I had.
âYou can only ever get things done on a full stomach.â
âMm, being full is good.â
âReading is only possible with food. They say books are food for the mind, but they do not fill the belly.â
âBooks are boring. Farming is more fun!â
Oho, how adorable as a farmerâs daughter.
âBut in order for it to be called the season of gluttony, there needs to be things to eat. If youâre hungry, you are not being a glutton, but simply looking for something to eat.â
âAnd so autumn is the season of harvest! Is what youâre saying, Dad?â
âYes I am!â
My little girl lifted her head up.
In her eyes were traces of disdain.
âThen get to work.â
My daughter pointed once at the potatoes she dug up, then once at the potatoes I had dug up.
There was almost twice as many in her pile compared to mine.
âSorry.â
âYou said that last time as well?â
âIâll do my best!â
She sighed like a farmer, acting unlike her age.
âDad was the one who said that we needed to harvest at least half in order for there to be no problems with our plans.â
âYes!â
The speed of the hoe in my hand intensified.
âWe need to finished the potatoes within the week, and harvest the corn and wheat as well.â
âYe, yes we do!â
âI worked hard even while I was talking with Dad so why did Dad not do any work while you talked?â
âIâll do my best!â
This is not me being scolded by my daughter.
This is simply one farmer criticizing another.
Digging up potatoes even while saying so, her talents as a farmer that already surpassed me almost made me fear for the future.
âLetâs get on with it!â
âYes!â
Thump! Thump!
The sound of hoes hitting the ground echoed throughout the field with no more talking.
Yes, this is the harvest season.
But soon the winter, the season of cold will be upon us.
Winter is cold. I donât wanna go out.
In order to not go out one must prepare firewood and food in advance.
Autumn is the harvest season, but there are so many things that need to be prepared it wouldnât be strange to call it the season of preparation.
âTo think Iâd have to prepare for winter here, too.â
I thought Iâd never have to prepare for winter after I was discharged from the military.
âItâs hard for us if we donât prepare for winter. It was hard for us last year too because we didnât have enough firewood.â
âItâs not like we didnât have enough firewoodâŠâŠâ
âNo! We didnât have enough! We didnât have enough firewood just because we had roast potatoes and roast sweet potatoes(1) a few times! So this year we need to prepare enough firewood for the roast potatoes and sweet potatoes weâre going to be cooking during winter, too!â
My little sweeties was increasing my workload for a strong desire for food. Just where had she picked up these bad habits?
-Winter firewood? The mountainsâre overflowing with thâ stuff, wazzit matter if we take some!
-Thatâs my big sis!
Of course thereâd only be one.
There were no traces of anyone tracking us anyway, and the metal bat was extremely unhelpful in childcare to the point where I considered sealing it in the shed.
âAlright. Then in order to do that, we need to harvest all the potatoes by the end of today.â
âMm!â
When two experienced farmers put their minds to the harvest, it didnât take long for the wooden box to fill up with potatoes.
âThere we go, thatâs todayâs quota done!â
âOwiewie done~â
My little girl going âowiewieâ as she clutched her back and leaned backwards looked very dependable.
âThen the promise?â
âAlright, today⊠is chicken!â
âSniffleâŠâŠ Iâm glad to be alive.â
Ellis likes fried chicken very, very much, to the point where I wondered if she had any Korean blood in her.(2)
I wanted to cook up a chicken a day for her, but for the sake of her future, it was still too early for Ellis because she was in her growth period.
âAlright, now should we go put our potatoes away in the shed and go out to the village to buy chickens?â
âMm! Big sisâll be happy weâre done early, too!â
Tch, I could have spent some quality time alone with my daughter for the first time in a while.
It seemed that my sweet daughter wanted to bring that damn metal bat along with us as well.
âI suppose we should.â
âMm! Big sis canât farm so sheâs looking after the house every day! Being alone is boring!â
âEllis is a good girl.â
âMm, Ellis is a good girl!â
I unconsciously pat Ellisâs head with my dirt-smeared hand.
Normal girls would have gotten angry that their hair was dirtied, but as a brilliant farmer already, Ellis was at MAX affinity with the earth and simply giggled happily.
âLetâs go!â
âMm!â
After checking again that Ellis had her bum firmly on the card carrying our potatoes, I started pulling the cart in the direction of home.
Three years since we had settled in a sleepy rural village, and it was a very satisfying life.
#2 Their story: A certain daughterâs story.
âOh my! Ellis! Have you come shopping with your Dad?â
âYes! Big sis is with us today, too!â
The auntie selling skewers in the market smiled as she saw us coming.
âOh my, Aruâs here too?â
âMmhm, Aruâs hea!â
Big sis doesnât get the chance to get out very often.
Dadâs kind but very strict towards big sis and he doesnât like it when she goes out.
Heâs stopping big sis from leaving the house while saying strange things like the worldâs peace would be endangered just by her going out.
âThatâs good, thatâs good. Auntieâs feeling good seeing all of mister Mellenâs little girls gathered together for the first time in a while. Now, here, a present.â
âThank you very much!â
âFank you very much!â
When auntie held out two kebabs, big sis very quickly said thank you and took them.
âHey, heyâŠâŠâ
Dad doesnât like receiving charity from other people.
But kebabs are meat.
Theyâre tasty.
I know that Dad cooks meat for us more often than other families but thereâs still never enough meat.
âHow much is it?â
âNow, mister Mellen. I just gave them the reject parts that arenât worth selling. Think of it as a little service for all the times you buy from me.â
âButâŠâŠâ
âDearie, mister Mellenâs so stubborn.â
While Dad was chatting with auntie with his wallet open, the kebabs had all disappeared into our tummies.
Dad could scold us for this later but the allure of meat is just too strong!
âShe said itza fweebie. We got something we hafta get so letâs hurry!â
Big sis tugged on Dadâs pants.
Dad scowled slightly but sighed, said to auntie that heâd buy lots of kebabs from her in the future and started walking through the market to buy chickens.
âEllis. Donât copy your big sister just because sheâs doing something.â
âIâm sorryâŠâŠâ
Dad wordlessly stroked my head at my apology.
âHehe~â
Dadâs hand is big and hard but it feels really good.
âWeâre here, the chicken store!â
âOh my, itâs Aru? Itâs been a while?â
While I was indulging myself in the feeling of Dadâs touch we reached the store of the auntie that sold chickens.
âOh my, mister Mellen. Youâre here again? You do buy a lot of chickens from me. You must be good at chicken dishes.â
âItâs more that I like them rather than being good at them, Mrs Rechell.â
âDadâs chicken is the strongest!â
âMm, invincible chicken!â
âI donât know what it is, but it must be really good.â
âMm mm!â
I nodded strongly to the chicken auntieâs words.
Fried chicken is the strongest. Itâs invincible.
Itâs the strongest food that nothing else in the world can beat.
Itâs unimaginable crispiness canât even remotely be compared to ordinary roast chicken.
And then, the moment I reach the chicken meat hidden underneath the fried coating, Iâm hit with an unimaginably powerful feeling.
Even more than when Iâm harvesting the crops I worked so hard to grow!
And then when Dadâs special homemade sauce is added on top, I can no longer escape the magic food that is fried chicken.
Dadâs chicken is perfect.
Itâs perfect as it is.
But when Dadâs sauce is added to that perfect food, it turns it to something completely different.
The fried chicken is already perfect as it is.
But itâs still perfect when the sauce does a 180° twist on its taste.
Meaning, a number of perfect dishes the same as the number of sauces can be created.
Dadâs fried chicken is a food that I will never get bored of, that will always stay delicious even if I eat it every day!
Hooray for fried chicken!
âIt, it must be really delicious.â
âEllis, drool.â
Big sis whispered into my ear as chicken auntie said so.
âSchlurrp.â
The drool that had gathered in my mouth had started dripping out without me even noticing.
Thankfully it seemed that Dad hadnât noticed because he was busy picking out what chickens to buy.
âThanks, sis.â
âWhat, itâs nothing.â
Dadâs kind but heâs very very strict when heâs scolding me.
I know why heâs scolding me but not being scolded is still the best.
Angry dad is scary!
âThis, this and this one should be good. Ah, this one, too.â
âFour in total.â
âBecause chickens should always be!ââOne chicken per person!â
Big sis and I shouted naturally to auntieâs words.
Chicken should always be one chicken per person!
Fried, roasted, boiled, everyone should have one chicken per person.
Then fights wonât break out.
Everyone wants drumsticks, but no one wants the neck.
But if you cook only one chicken, then someone gets the legs, and others get the neck or breast.
Of course chicken breast is tasty, too.
Itâs easy to eat because thereâs no bones, either.
But thereâs a massive world of difference between it and the legs or wings.
Thatâs why fights break out.
Chicken is that important of a food!
But if itâs one chicken per person, every problem can be solved.
Everyone can peacefully enjoy their chicken.
âSo thatâs why four!â
âSo that one chicken per person can still happen even if the grandpa next door steals one!â
The grandpa that lives next door comes to our house quite often.
And every time he does he steals away some of Dadâs cooking, which is precious to us.
Even if I know that Dadâs cooking is so good it canât be helped, that doesnât stop us looking poorly at the always-kind grandpa.
Ruining the one chicken per person is something we canât forgive even grandpa next door for.
âAha, so does old man Steon also eat with you?â
âGrandpa comes over like a ghost whenever Dad makes fried chicken for us.â
âThatâs nice, if even Steon comes over for it then Iâll also have to give it a try some time.â
Cockiooo!
The chicken screamed as it was killed by the smiling auntie.
There was no such thing as mercy in auntieâs hands which cut off the chickenâs head in a single strike.
Her skills as she beheaded the chicken and plucked out its feathers was something I couldnât ever hope to replicate myself.
If I dreamed of being a pro farmer, then auntie was already a pro chicken butcher⊠no, even beyond the realm of a simple professional!
âMister Mellenâs children are as amazing as ever. Most children feel sorry for the chicken when they see it dieâŠâŠâ
âThe children know the taste of chicken far too well for that.â
âHohoho. Although that does make them very good customers for me selling chickens.â
Dad seemed mildly embarrased, but Dad was the one who made me this way.
So everything is Dadâs fault!
Dad was the angelic devil who introduced big sis and I to the magic of chicken!
âHere we are, four chickens, plucked and gutted.â
âHere you are.â
Dad handed over the money to auntie.
Auntie took the money and waved at us as we left.
And now, that chicken was now ours.
Our dinner, fried chicken!
âTonightâs dinner is fried chicken!â
âUwoooooo!â
âChicken, our lord and saviour fried chicken!â
Big sis and I both let out shouts of joy at Dadâs words.
As our reward for working hard today, we obtained chicken for tonightâs dinner!