But, like every other day that I pray will become a
cherished memory something always goes awry.
We were good as we played in the sprinklers, got the kids
pool filled, had a water fight, munched a few snacks, and had some neighbor
kids over. The swinging was great, the new fort worked well, and millions of
bubbles were blown, chased, and popped. After a long winter inside, we were
finally outside and at the request of our son, we decided to eat outside too.
I took one step toward the house to gather what I needed and
heard a pop, then felt a squish. As I looked down, I was standing IN a baby
bird. I’m assuming he fell out of a nest somewhere high in the tree that covers
part of our yard.
Immediately, my normally rough and tumble
ninja/warrior/brave boy was a sobbing mess. It was like the end of Old Yeller in
the backyard.
“Why did you step on him mom?!”
Really? I’m hosing birdy off my foot and he thinks I did
this on purpose? I assured him that other than the bird, I was probably the most
disturbed party involved in this mess. There is squished bird ON MY BAREFOOT.
This led to “Why was he there? Where is his mom? Why did
this happen?” and a litany of others.
To get him off the topic, I decided to try and get the bird
out of the yard. The shovel just made a bigger mess, the little trowel somehow
sent feathers everywhere – finally my husband quietly came over and told me “I
think I’m just going to have to mow him – he’s really into the grass.”
Gross.
I moved the kids along and got them to forget about him.
Hands were washed, dinner was cooked and as I approached the picnic table to
give our son his plate, he was holding something in his hand and investigating
it. If you have a six year old boy, you know where this is going. It was a “chunk”
of our bird buddy.
I may have freaked out more then, than when it was on my
foot. I marched him in, made him wash his hands three times. I washed them
once. And we purelled the living daylights out of the kid. I was about ready to
cancel eating outside (I hate it anyway with all the bugs that fly around). But
we got to the table, sans bird, and enjoyed a meal.
As our daughter finished her meal, my husband plopped her
onto the ground to play for a few minutes – RIGHT ON TOP OF THE DAMN BIRD. I
may have lost my cool for a moment when asking him why my darling baby was now
SITTING in dead bird. I’m not sure how, but he claims he forgot the bird was
there. Temporary insanity possibly? Maybe.
By the end of the day, the bird was scrubbed off the baby’s
legs and butt as well. We’re all bird free. And my lawn is getting mowed today.
And I’m guessing, while it’s not the stuff of Hallmark
movies, we made plenty of memories we won’t be forgetting any time soon.
