Eight Plus Seven Chicks

The chick run held eight fluffy commas from dawn.

Afternoon plan: plus seven more chicks from the warm box.

Eight plus seven, said Spike. How many altogether?

Suzy held eight in her mind, then seven more: fifteen. Not sixteen because hope hatched imaginary.

They checked: one through seven new peeps. Eight old plus seven new = fifteen.

Quails scribbled tiny applause. Chickens practised orderly queue theatre.

Adventure Cap loved pouring forever. Care said stop at the plan number.

Little Thunder declined chick commentary with dignity.

Kids: eight blocks plus seven blocks. Count the pile once, then check.

Add maths on a farm is a promise you can see in the run.

Lead tops up without crowding the bay.

Fifteen peeps. Soft landings. Honest total.

Eight + seven = fifteen.