more about chickens. . .and boobs

My sister Jan is eight years younger than I am, and when we were kids we fought like cats and dogs (which reminds me of the cat-juggling story). At some point in my baby sister's delicate development she decided "breast" was a naughty word. For some reason, however, she decided "boobies" was a perfectly acceptable reference for a woman's mammary glands. Since Jan was more than capable of beating the crap out of me with her toy baton, a can of pledge, or  box of tissues, my only recourse for defense was my superior quick tongue (cough). So. . . whenever I had the opportunity, I would do this:

Me: Hey, guess what we're having for dinner tonight?

Jan: What?

Me: BRRRREAST of chicken.

Jan: MOMMA! Dee's talking naughty.

Mom: Stop it you two or you'll be washing dishes. And, Jan, breast is not a naughty word.