Showdown with Picasso

I do not like birds. I do not like the fact that they have no control over their bowels. They just go at will. I do not like their gross little clawed up, 3 toed , shriveled feet. Their noises are even kinda freaky to me, though I have to admit it is pretty cool that our friend's cockatiel has a different whistle for each of them when he wants to get out. And this is where we begin our story. He was calling and calling and whistling and whistling and finally Wendy lets him out. I was in another room when the bird was let out so as I entered the scene Wendy was getting the bird off of Jeebs' shoulder. She tells me at this point that Picasso likes being on the shoulder of the tallest person in the room. I'm standing in the kitchen with Wendy and all the kids. I am about an inch taller than Wendy so all I can do is slouch a little bit and keep my eye on the bird ready to make a quick escape if he per chance tries to take flight and head for me. About 30 seconds after my initial thoughts of slouching race through my mind, he takes off and I see him in slow motion- wings expanding and flapping towards me. All I can do is turn and run screaming no, NO, NONONONONO. Someone caught the bird before he landed on me and I stop in the dining room where I am the only one standing. Again, here that dang bird comes- taking off, wings flapping, fwoomp fwoomp fwoomp, his nasty beady eyes staring straight at me, coming for me with his pucker string-less self. This time I turn, run, scream and frantically search for someone taller than me to stand by. There is no one. That has to be a first for me in my lifetime. I don't really no what happened next, I might have blacked out. He was caught and put away while everybody laughed at my freak out session. I was shaking and laughing at myself. I know it's ridiculous and I could've played it cool and said I was nervous it might land on my baby and scratch her. But really, if I had thought about it I probably would've lifted her up over my head so he would land on her and not me. (not really)

Yesterday I scooted Ezra out on the back porch with his lite saber (or is it light saber?) to do his swacking outside, instead of on my kitchen walls. He got in a few good swacks to my patio furniture and then I see him sucked up to the door as close as he can get, face pressed against the glass, tears coming out of his eyes, and screaming to let him in. I let him back in and asked him what was the matter. He tells me, "there's a bird out there!" I immediately replied, "A bird? the bird is not going to do anything to you!" I hear Jeebs yell from our bedroom, "How can you say that with a straight face?" It's true I have jacked up our kids. It's a good thing I married a man with only one fear, bees.