Sunday, January 26, 2014


In my Keep Fit club we watched a few workout videos, and we sprinted around the gym a few times. We were pretty tired, so we were doing some stretches as a cool down. And as it happens, we started telling stories. For some reason the conversation was birds.
I told them a story about a bird flying into our living room window. I was distressed when I went outside, expecting doorbell ditchers, to find a little broken bird.
“Is it dead?” I asked, my eyes tearing a bit before I could help it.
“No, no.” My mom said. “Sometimes they just get stunned after hitting the glass, and it will regain consciousness in a few minutes.”
My dad walked over to have a look, with all of the tact in the world, “Yeah, that’s dead.”

The girls giggled. And then one of my favorite girls decided to follow my story.
“I have a bird story, and it’s like, the opposite of yours.” She said. She’s hilarious. She’s always so excited, and she talks with animated hand gestures. “So I was out in my yard and I saw a bird nest. And it had a little egg in it. And I took it out of the tree and I put it in my room. And then there were these birds freaking out outside my window. And my mom found it and asked where I got the nest. And I said I got it from school. And the birds kept freaking out, so I started to panic, because of my mom and the birds, so I just threw it out the window.”
She never found out what happened to it. It was a bit dark, but I was in stitches for the whole rest of the evening.