It's a bird ... no it's a plane...nope it was a bird.

So, I am recovering from the monumental chore of unpacking and getting back into the swing of life after vacation. It's hard.

Anyhow, I am sitting on my livingroom floor folding all the beach towels from the beach watching my plethera of lifetime movies. My youngest toddles in screaming for food. So, I stand up and go to the kitchen. And what do I see?? A flippin bird hopping around the joint like he owns the place. He is bouncing from window sill to fridge to the sink and anywhere his little bird tush wants to take him. I freak out. I am not scared of birds, outside in their own habitat. A bird in my kitchen, well that's another story.

So, I call my hubby and demand his presence for the bird situation. My youngest is still wanting food. So he meanders into bird territory. He sees it and is as pleased as punch. He begins chanting ...

"Bird! Touch! Bird!" In a shrill annoying kind of voice.

Well, the bird is not impressed. He puffs up and gets highly irratated. The little thing flies to the top of the wine glass rack and starts screeching back. This only makes Ethan happier. Now he thinks the bird is talking with him. The screeching on both ends heightens.

Meanwhile, I am trying to see if I can make it across the kitchen and prop open the back door to let the thing fly out. It sees me and has the nerve to dive bomb my head. Is this an outcast from Alfred. H. The Birds or what??

Chaos is reaching paramount porportions and I think the little thing has had enough. He looked at us and looked at the door and flew right out like he'd done it a thousand times before.

So, the bird is gone but my son is crushed. He's lost his friend.

I plop back down and finish folding clothes. It's all in a days work for this mom.

*Vintage Post