My chicken leg

One day, at breakfast, the son sat at the table and looked at the breakfast on the table and said, "Eat this again!" I heard him, and ran over and said, "What's wrong? Mom's pasta jam is the best, isn't the baby boy the best? Come on, let's put it on the buns. It's sweet and sweet." "I don't eat, Mom, this is bad." The son comes back to me. It's no wonder I've been lazy for days. And the first night of his sleep, he made fresh meals, and the next morning he rose up with hot buns, and a few white eggs, with pickles and pine pine. It was a lot to save. But this... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I've been sitting on the table for less than eight minutes!