However, when you are finished carving it, shredding it, and picking every last ounce of chicken off of it's bones, you are left with a greasy, ugly pile of stuff. All of this stuff gets dumped into the trash can in our house.
Today I get the dreaded call around 11:30am. My phone's caller ID says, "Child Development Center." This is hardley ever a good thing. I've been told that Charlotte threw up (a lot) during lunch and needed to be picked up. I had been praying that we would avoid this stomach bug that's going around, but no such luck.
So, I leave the office and go to pick her up. We walked through the door at home and I immediately knew what was waiting in the kitchen. I knew that the trash had been emptied and rummaged through by a certain black dog because that certain black dog was not there to greet us when we walked through the door. I guess the smell of chicken remains was more than she could take. She ate the entire thing - not a bone left in the trash can. She also ate every last red onion that the chicken cooked with as well.
So, not only are we bracing ourselves to clean up Charlotte throw up tonight - we have the dog to worry about too. Wish us luck.