Last summer we had a bird in our house.
The front door was left open for some reason (which is quite unusual due to my fear of robbers) and a bird must have gotten in.
Quinn kept yelling, “A bird, Mommy! A Bird!”
I didn’t believe her until I saw it sitting on the arm of my couch.
The first thing that went through my head was, “Dear God, don’t let it poop.”
Then I was scared. I don’t know why, but I pretty much rolled up into the fetal position and played dead so it wouldn’t attack me. I heard this works for bears…why not birds?
The great (and heroic) husband calmly shooed it out of the house after many screams and ducks of the head.
The drama was over with a happy ending. No bird. No poop anywhere. Everyone still had their eyes.
Fast forward to this morning.
I was getting out of the shower and Quinn came running upstairs.
“Mom, there is a bird in the corner in the family room. I thought it was dead. I went to play with it. I think it is dead.”
“What do you mean? Is it a toy?”
“No. It’s a bird.”
“Is it moving?”
“No. It is in the corner. Come down here and look.”
In my head I am thinking, she must be confused. It has to be a toy. We didn’t even open up the doors yet. There is no way a dead bird can just appear in the family room. We don’t even have a cat to kill one.
A few minutes later I come downstairs.
“Mom, come look at the bird.”
I saunter into the family room and look to where she points.
I see this:
I gasp loudly and start to run.
Quinn looks at me with tears forming in her eyes.
“What, Mommy? WHAT?”
“Did you play with that, honey?” I ask her, my voice quivering.
At this point she can totally see the fear in my eyes.
“No. It fell from the tree.”
The tree she is talking about is a fake ficus tree in the corner that my dad had recently given me.
I walked back to the bird.
This is what I saw:
Yes, those are wires coming from it’s feet.
Seriously, do they have to make these birds look so real?
The bird is still there. It looks so damn real I am afraid to touch it.
I hate that bird and the trauma it put me through this morning.
I promise you, it will sit there until the great (and heroic) husband moves it tonight.