So, I have this thing with birds.
It’s not, like, a clown-territory fear *shudder*, but there’s something about birds that makes me incredibly uneasy. Perhaps it’s because some birds have no boundaries when it comes to people. Thanks to people like, say, the bird lady in Mary Poppins, some birds have no problem getting dangerously close to your person. Personal space what?
Tuppence a bag, NBD
And then there is that whole swooping business.
I MEAN. Nightmares.
But you guys. We discovered something on our trip. Isabella is kind of, well, ever-so-slightly obsessed with birds.
I should have known.
We took her to several museums, including the Natural History one, which we assumed would be the home-run winner for her, since DINOSAURS! and the butterfly exhibit, but Isabella loved the bird house at the National Zoo more than anything.
“I don’t like dinosaurs, Mama. Not even a little bit.”
What? Who is this kid? Who doesn’t like dinosaurs??
“But you loved Jurassic Park!”
“I did?”
“WAIT. Not even Dino?! Or, or, Yoshi? Or Barney for goodness sake?!”
“No. I like birds. Actually, I take it back, I love birds. More than anything. They are amazing.”
“It’s like I don’t even know you, Martell.”
And then she told me everything she knows about birds. For hours. She talked about their beaks and their feathers and flight patterns and their diets. You guys, she used the word wattle. Either she has been secretly watching old Ally McBeal episodes, or this child has been researching birds. Researching birds.
“Maybe you should give birds another chance, Mama.”
“Well, I guess Big Bird isn’t all that bad. Or, you know, bird tattoos are kind of cool.”
So, maybe I should be giving birds another chance.
Maybe.
But probably not. Because SWOOP.
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