Baby birds and mice

David:  Hey, Hon.  Can I do anything to help you out?

Me:  Could you read with Daisy Mae?  She needs someone to listen to her read.

David:  Sure

My husband has "sitting-down-sleeping-syndrome."  He comes by it honestly.  Everyone in his family also has this syndrome.  Back in yesteryear, (ooh!  a fancy word!), I would be watching a movie with my crazykin inlaws and they would all be asleep.  All of them.  Except the other lone inlaw, Jack.  It was always odd.  It's hard for me and Jack, you know . . . being the only normal ones.  They are blessed to have us.

Since Lucy has been gone, we have been invaded by mice.  Thankfully not in our house, but in our garage.  The children caught a baby mouse and made a little habitat for it to live in. 

What is wrong with them?

They went to check on it and it escaped.  Lovely.  I'll have you know my kids used to be scared and squeamish around animals, bugs, and rodents.  Now they touch mice like it ain't no thang.  Country life is making them weird and creepy.

We also have a bird's nest.

It's hard to see, but there are little babies in there with their beaks open.

Here's the mama.  Does anyone know what kind of bird it is?

It should be easy for you to tell, seeing as how I have provided you with an professional, completely in-focus picture.

It's the kind of photography excellence you have come to expect from me.

That bird's nest is in our front porch thingie.  I don't know what it is called!  It's like a roof.  But over a porch?  And there are beams?  You KNOW.  The front porch thingie.  Anyways, a bird lovingly placed a nest there last year when we had just moved in.  But Sweet Pea and Bimlissa's daughter knocked it down with sticks and murdered the baby birds who were still in egg-form.

I don't think I ever told Bimlissa this.

Bimlissa, is not this disturbing?  Should we be concerned?

Luckily, no baby birds have been murdered thus far.  My kids are now a little more wise in the ways of animals.  I just wish they would get a little disturbing on the baby mice.

I kid!  I jest!

I need a cat.

My kids all love to read together.

It's a huge time saver for me, but then I started to feel kind of badly about it.  I remember the days when I just had Sweet Pea.  After lunch, I would sit in her room and watch her play with her toys and help her.  Then we would read books together and I would put her down for her nap.  There is no way I have time to give each of my children this kind of attention daily anymore.

Just feeling a little guilty.

Alright!  I am headed to town today!  This is exciting and my nicest jeans are clean and ready to go!

I realized I forgot to share with you the link for the coffee filter wreath:

My mom said she wants to try it.  Perhaps I should do it with her!  It could be a fantastic opportunity to get a Goober Parent Update.  Or, depending on how well the craft goes, a Goober Taylor Update.

And, since we are on the subject of Goober Parents, I shall leave you with the following phone call that took place between my dad and I.

Remember my dad?

You may recall that my parents recently got smart phones.

Why?

We cannot be certain.  But pigs can now fly.

Me:  Hello?

Dad (shouting because he is confused and feels the need to shout):  I AM JUST LETTING YOU KNOW THAT I FIGURED OUT YOUR PANDORA THING

Me:  Oh!  Do you like it?

Dad:  I TYPED IN MY FRIEND BURT.  AND THEN YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE THE TYPES OF SONGS THEY WRE PLAYING.  HORRIBLE.

I think he is referring to someone named Burton Cummings.  It's ok.  I don't know who that is either.

Me:  Well, just mark that you don't like it and it will soon tailor it to your likes.

Dad: THE ONLY PROBLEM IS I CANNOT HEAR A DARN THING.  IT WON'T LET ME TURN IT UP.

Me, the smart phone expert that I am:  You need to turn up your media volume.

Dad:  THAT DOES NOT EXIST ON MY PHONE.  IT IS IMPOSSIBLE.  MY PHONE WILL NOT TURN ANY VOLUME UP.

Me:  Alright.

Dad:  GOODBYE.

Peace out, dudes.