Baby Boy Bradbury: The Birds

So there I was ... (and in just those few words you already know it is going to be a good story) sitting on the bed with my mom. It was a sunny Friday afternoon and my belly was bubbling with some good eats. My very tall and notably handsome dad was just in the other room, probably reading Cougar sports.

Of late, mom and I have started doing something pretty cool—I eat good grub, burp for a long time (you do know who my aunt KK is, right?) and then we go and sit on the bed and talk. She props her head up on the wall and I have a seat on her belly. To start off, I turn my head from side to side several times before I can stop it somewhere in the middle. One of the things that makes me stop is when I notice, with my really big eyes, mom extending the challenge. Now she has big eyes too, which she has masterfully used to stare down many misbehaving minors in a matter of seconds, including and especially my really tall dad. But I ask you to recall the pee-shooter; there is a new champion in the house—and I'm still undefeated.

So my mom and I sit there and stare for just a second before she gives in, blinks and cracks a smile. I must tell you that my mom has been smiling at me for going on 11 ½ weeks now and I have, for the most part, maintained my face of stone. In fact, she has been smiling so much it has been making her cheeks hurt (“Okay. Bye bye. Bye bye, now. Are they gone yet. Oh my gosh, my cheeks are killing me.”). In my benevolence and out of pity for the old lady I have recently given in and smiled back. Dang cute smile too—I make that look good.

Anyways, it’s Friday and my mom and I are staring and smiling and talking and having a great time when all of the sudden I hear a loud THUD. Shocking as it was, that sound alone was not enough to scare me but it was the piercing SHRIEK that followed which wiped the smile right off my face and filled it with a frown.

The frown was followed by fervent and uncontrollable crying—not because of hunger or discomfort or exhaustion but fear and fear alone. I cried and cried and cried. My dad came and tried to console me. I cried and cried and cried. Even the airplanes that circle over the top of my bed which usually bring me joy and comfort could not console me. I cried and cried and cried. How could my mom make such a noise? Inconsolable.

Someday I will laugh to know that as my mom and I were chilling on the bed, some bird dive bombed the window, or at least the bush right outside the window. Maybe the bird had just said to his friends, “Hey, check out what I can do with my eyes closed.” Or maybe he had been eating too much of the food we have in our bird hookah in the back. The Hookah always throws the birds for a loop, if you know what I mean.

The bird slammed into the window, it scared my mom, she screamed, that scared me, I cried, that made my mom feel sad and silly at the same time, I cried, and all of that made my dad shake his head. No one will ever know if my mom was laughing or crying or crying or laughing. It was pretty funny, I mean sad, I mean … well you decide.