When I was a little girl I had a friend that had birds as pets. I thought it was fascinating and I admit, I was jealous.
Until one of the birds pooped on my hand.
That was the end of my fascination with birds.
Sure, I loved hanging birdhouses outside, watching them chirp about and do their birdie thing. But a bird as a pet?
Last night a friend of ours, who works for a pet store, called and said they had a finch that needed to be adopted, my husband took her up on it.
When it arrived, all cute in its cage, wings fluttering as it jumped all over the place, I admit it. I thought it was cute.
I didn't think much of it until today at nap time. When it was chirping, fluttering, chirping, jumping... chirping.
Every time the damn bird made a peep, Roo would stir and look around for her "birdie."
Every time Roo would get close to falling asleep, the bird would start chirping, fluttering, chirping, jumping and yes, chirping some more.
Finally, I managed to quiet the bird and quiet the Roo.
And now I'm questioning my husband's decision about this bird and having flashbacks about that bird pooping on me when I was a kid.
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