I love Sunday mornings... I actually try to wake up early on Sunday mornings... I know that goes against the grain but it is my little routine. I wake up before the chaos, sneak downstairs to get my coffee and the paper. I sit in my favorite spot and don't move for a full hour...unless I am refilling my coffee cup. I love this little down time and since we always get the entire crew dressed and out the door to get to 9:30 church service, early is the only way to go. So this particular Sunday, I sneak down the stairs so that I don't wake any of the twerps and go to get my coffee. This is what is sitting right next to my fresh brew....
Seriously! So I don't dare open the box, but what the heck. I hear a fluttering inside the box and I am a little weirded out. I don't like the idea of some unseen creature sitting right next to my coveted coffee mug. So I pick it up and move the box to the laundry room. I know this is the work of Collin, He works late weekend nights so I am usually sleeping when he gets home, and this box on my counter with the big sign is just so.. him.
When he finally wakes up I get the scoop that the bird in the box has a broken wing.. We decide to let the bird live on our sunporch... like a big huge bird cage. The kids all think this is our new pet and name him "Barney". They put out food and water and check on it constantly. I go about my business for a day or two, and then I decide that I should googl@ how to heal a bird with a broken wing and it wasn't pretty. The bird will never fly again.
Then that afternoon the kids get home from school and run out to see Barney... my 7 year old comes running into my bedroom with a dead bird in his hands and he is full out bawling. Kobi is right behind him tears streaming down her cheeks... I quickly instruct my little man to take the bird outside, thank you very much and then we have a long talk about death and how we will see Barney again in Heaven someday.
Never a dull moment around this place.