Bird Talk

Hey, it's me, Bird. Sometimes Mommy calls me The Evil Genius, except she make the "t" little, which is wrong because it's part of a title or name or something, and shouldn't it be big? Sometimes Mommy is just silly like that - she doesn't always follow the rules. I like it when we don't follow the rules together.

Mommy isn't feeling well right now, and she didn't feel like writing a blog today, so I decided I would do it for her. I'm not supposed to be on the Internet by myself, but she's in the kitchen cooking and cleaning and making a frowny face, so I'm not really alone...not really. Usually when I am online, I play games, but she writes every day for the blog and I didn't want her to have an empty day.

Mommy's heart hurts...not in a doctor kind of way, in a sad kind of way, and it's making her feel bad. She always tells me when she's sad, it isn't my fault, and the place in her heart where I am is happy, but sometimes it's very quiet and the sad part is loud, and she just has to let it play like a big brass band until it runs out of steam. I didn't know bands played with steam. I'd like to see that. I wonder how they make it...maybe they have a big kettle under the stage, only wouldn't that be hot? And drums don't like steam or damp, because then they go dull and thumpy and sound bad. Sometimes I don't understand Mommy.

She says I should follow my dreams and I can be whatever I strive to be when I grow up. Sometimes, she says she wishes she had listened to her heart before it was too late and she got too old and tired.

She's tired all the time...she says it's because her spirit is worn down. I think it's because she had a birthday, and she doesn't like them - she says they just remind her she's getting older and that's all she's doing. How can you not like birthdays? Last year, I had mine at Chuck-E-Cheese, and it was so much fun! This year it was at home, but some of my friends came and we played with all my toys and ran around and had strawberries and cake, but Mommy didn't do any of that for her birthday. She did dishes and had a res reese resepshun reception at the gallery, and I got to play at the park next door and run down to the lake and make Daddy run back up three-million steps because when we got to the bottom I had to go potty, and the potty was up at the top. Daddy said his heart was exploding, but I didn't see any smoke.

I'm going to help mommy make cookies, because she always laughs when I help her because sometimes the flour goes all over and sometimes I get dough on me and we always lick the spoons together. Daddy like cookies when they come out of the oven, but Mommy won't let me eat them until they cool off because she says the chocolate chips are like little chocolate lava bombs and she doesn't want me to burn my tongue. Wouldn't it be funny of there was a chocolate volcano? But messy, too, and we'd always have to wash our faces and hands, so maybe it wouldn't be so much fun. Making cookies is fun, though.

Oh, I have to go now because I see the owl in the tree and I want to show Mommy because she likes him! Bye-bye.