Saturday started innocently enough, although there was a change in the air with a crisp cool front whispering in the trees.
Life was good. I’d finished all of my work for the week, my daughter was back to “almost” sleeping through the night, and Hubby had cleaned the kitchen. I was happy.
To celebrate our lazy afternoon, we decided to drive around Houston, visiting some of our local fish stores. We have a small, 75 gallon Salt-water aquarium; after a recent lighting upgrade, it was time to window shop for new corals and fishie-friends.
JUST fish and corals, mind you — there was no intention, from either of us, to get anything else. Period.
Then it happened.
TWEET! TWEET!
The Little Lady saw the birds in the fish/general pet store. And, she was IN LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! She flapped her arms in excitement, squealed, and mimicked the ear-piercing shrieks coming from the Cockatiels and Parrots. It took all of Hubby’s strength to keep her from lunging onto the dirty wire cages.
This is the moment when I went crazy.
“Do you want a birdie? Do you want Mommy to get you one?”
“Uh-huh!” She vigorously (VERY vigorously) nodded her head up and down, reaching for her new feathered friends.
I turned to my husband, my green eyes shining with insanity. “We could get her one! My mom and sisters had birds — I could talk to them about the care. They sell the cages here too! Awww . . . look how cute that one is!” I pointed to a yellow and green . . . um, some kind of bird, and just managed, by the little bit of maturity left in my brain, to refrain from tweeting in unison with the birds.
The Little Lady was squawking by this point, her eyes dancing with ornithological delight.
I left the bird room and quickly headed to the bird supply section, gawking at the colorful cages – large and small – and the myriad of bird toys that, oddly, looked very similar to many of the Little Lady’s toys. I was sold.
A bird book . . . I need a bird book. My type-A planning self was trying to gain control, sending messages throughout my brain: research, research, research FIRST!!!!
Pushing past the books on pugs, pomeranians, and poodles, I finally found a few ragged, tattered, NOT very new looking bird books. I employed my speed reading skills and skimmed the first few chapters of each one.
WHAT? You have to let the bird out of its cage DAILY to fly around the house?
WHAT? You have to offer fresh fruits and vegetables DAILY, minced to fit in their beaks? (what about all of the prepared bird food I just saw on the shelves?)
WHAT? You have to TRAIN them to like you?????????
I called my sister, looking for confirmation that these books were bunk.
I didn’t get my confirmation.
Instead, I heard about how HORRIBLY they can hurt you, how HORRIBLY they shriek at all times of the day and night, and how HORRIBLY dirty they can be thanks to flying feathers.
That’s when I decided a playground would be a better Christmas present for ALL of us.
Crazy Crisis Averted.
