Sheldon, eavesdropping from the hallway, whispered to his notepad: "Wedding stress + live chicken = reduced arguments. Hypothesis confirmed."
"It’s a therapeutic fowl, Meemaw," Sheldon said stiffly.
Meemaw appeared at the door. "Why’s there a chicken on the boy’s head?"
Georgie, leaning against the fridge, smirked. "That’s not a pet, that’s dinner."