I have finally gotten off the floor from laughing after three days, so I’m thinking I can finally blog about this without breaking into fits of laughter and merriment.
It is Saturday morning around 2:30 am. A-Boy wakes up in the middle of the night and comes to our bed. Greg groggily takes him back to his room and tucks him in. He then realizes that he is sicker than a dog after eating an entire tub of popcorn on our hot date. (We went to The Pursuit of Happyness Friday night. Good, but REALLY depressing.) Greg decides to go downstairs and partake of some Alka-Seltzer, the elixir of the gods when one is not feeling 100% due to eating foods lacking in nutritional content. While he is downstairs, he hears a squawking noise. He thinks it is his imagination and returns to bed.
Fifteen minutes later, I roll over and realize that he is sitting up in bed. “I’m sorry you’re sick,” I say, rubbing his back like the loving wife that I am.
“I don’t want to freak you out, but there is something downstairs,” he says in a low voice.
“WHAT!!!!” I sit up too.
“It’s either the hard drive going out on the DVR or a bird. I think it’s a bird.” He pauses. “I. Am. Terrified.”
I’m glad it is dark. I don’t want him to see the big smile on my face. I try not to giggle.
“You are terrified?” I say, my smile getting bigger. “Of a bird?”
“Well, first of all I don’t FEEL good. Second of all, what the heck are we supposed to do with a BIRD in our house? How are we supposed to get it OUT?”
“I don’t know,” I say, “Too bad you aren’t a mighty hunter.”
“Hmph. Do you hear it? Listen.”
“I HEAR IT! OH MY GOSH THERE IS BIRD IN OUR HOUSE!!!! How do you think it got in here? Do you think it is in the Christmas tree?”
We decide that is in the Christmas tree.
Greg gets dressed. Even puts on shoes and socks “just in case”. I throw on a pair of slippers. Out into the hall we go. We look down at the tree from the landing on our stairs.
It IS coming from the Christmas tree! We discuss how we think it got inside. Maybe it flew in when we weren’t looking. Maybe it has a nest in the tree. YES! It has a nest in the tree. But why wouldn’t we have heard it until now. Hmm. I determine it was probably because there was an egg in the nest in the tree and that our house is just so cozy and warm that it didn’t need the Mama Bird to keep it warm and it has now hatched.
Greg rolls his eyes. I decide that that scenario probably isn’t the case since our house is usually a frigid 68 degrees. (NOT because of ME, thank you.)
We stare down at the tree.
“I’m scared of animals,” Greg says, matter of factly.
“WHAT?” I say. Laughter can no longer be contained. I laugh and laugh and laugh until I have tears. He laughs too.
We decide it is time to take on the tree. I tell Greg that we should wake up Samantha first, you know, for moral support. Really its because I know she will find the situation just as hilarious as I do and it would seem a shame for her to miss out. Greg sees right through me. We don’t wake her up. (Although how everyone slept through this I’ll never know) We walk down the stairs. Greg gets a broomstick and a flashlight. He stands five feet away from the tree then moves closer and pokes it.
I start giggling again. “You can’t just POKE the tree! You gotta get in there and shake it hard!”
“He-llo! Have you even SEEN Christmas Vacation? I am NOT getting close to that tree. Whatever’s in there will come flying out ready to attack!” He says to me with disgust in his voice. Obviously I am SO stupid.
“Fine. Give me the flashlight,” I say.
He hands over the light. I get right up to the tree and try to look near the center of the tree. “Dang our love of lush green trees with thick foilage! I can’t see a dang thing!”
We both bust up laughing.
“IT’S IN THE TV! IT’S IN THE TV CONSOLE!” Greg shrieks. He quickly turns on me. “This is all your fault,” he says. If you wouldn’t have made me put the tv in the corner this would have NEVER happened!”
“WHAT?” I say. We both bust up again.
I get down on the floor and peer past the glass of the tv console. I move the flashlight slowly, searching for any signs of avian life.
“HOLY FREAKING CRAP IT’S COMING FROM THE TOY BOX!!!!!!!!!”
We inch closer towards it, adrenaline pumping. Greg pokes the box with his trusty broom handle. Then we see it.
Next to the toy box is this:
The RC Car A-Boy got for his birthday. There it is, in all its malfunctional glory.
I haven’t laughed that hard for a LONG time. It took us at least an hour after that to get to sleep since we kept bursting into fits of giggles.
“You are scared of animals?” I asked.
“What? No! You told me earlier today that A-Boy came up to you twice today and said, ‘I’m scared of animals.’ Right?”
“Oh yeah!” I giggled.
“You don’t think I’m actually scared of animals, do you?”
Some conversations are best left unspoken.