Tuesday morning, I prayed the rosary with a sick baby in bed with me, two cats curled up on either side, and a strange bird singing just outside the window.
I’m not an ornithologist, but I recognize the commonly-heard bird calls here just from habituation. This one was new, more trilling. I can never see the birds that are singing, by the way. I look in their general direction and see, effectively, a singing tree.
Kiddo#1 came in to tell me Kiddo#3 “was lost on the couch” (ie, he’d fallen asleep because he’s battling being sick too) and heard the bird. Meanwhile, he started petting the cat.
Speaking as if I were Jerina, I said, “If you would let me outside, I would eat that singing bird.”
Kiddo#1 didn’t miss a beat. In a squeaky voice (which he also uses for the baby) he said, “It sounds beautiful, so it must taste wonderful.”
I said, “My fud has a song.”
I laughed. He then said, “Jerina, we don’t eat singing food.”
I said, again as Jerina, “It would not be singing by the time I eated it.”
He laughed. It’s good to talk LOLcat with your kid.