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Holt loves this chicken. She

is officially known as "the friendly one" who has guranteed herself a life-time reprieve from the stew pot. I mean, really, how can you eat a chicken who walks up to you and practically begs to be held? It must be some sort of clever adaptative trait on her part. I imagine that before the summer is over, she'll have a name.

Pizza World

Ridge: (in the middle of dinner) "What would the world be like if it were a giant pizza?"

Aaron: "Very greasy."

Grandma: "Would that mean that the sauce is always redder on the other side?"

Grandpa: "What would happen when you fell off the edge?"

Ridge had nothing more to say on the matter.