My Son Failed the Chicken Wing Test
I gave him a good life, but I also give him a hard time. It’s a balance.
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There’s been a meme floating around for a month or two that shows a row of five numbered chicken wings, each one a little more stripped of meat than the last. Number one has a single small bite taken out of it; number five looks like it’s been dug up by a paleontologist. The punchline is that you can tell a lot about someone’s upbringing based on the amount of meat left on the bone.
My 11-year-old son and I both love wings, but we are on opposite ends of this chart. On the cleaned chicken bone scale, I’m about a five — every scrap of flesh gone, along with a good bit of cartilage. Meanwhile, he’s a solid two — a couple good bites, then he’s reaching for the next piece.
I’m always after him about how much good food he’s throwing away. I learned growing up that you had to clean the bone thoroughly. When it comes to…
