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Brooks is our oldest. He is 5 and I would like to have a talk with the person who suggested that it’s ok for kids to grow up! I wish I could keep him this age forever. He not only is a helper with the younger kids, but is crazy funny and developing his witty side.
About a month or so ago, I added getting the mail to his list of chores. I use the term chores loosely, because I haven’t really cracked down on them yet. He makes his bed, vacuums the guest room and gets the mail. I can’t wait till he can load the dishwasher…Anywhoo – he loves to get the mail. And I love for him to do it. He usually just puts it in a nice pile on the counter and I go thru it later. Perfect system.
Or so I thought.
Roughly 2 weeks ago, he got off the school bus, threw his backpack on the couch and went outside to play golf ( daddy bruce style) in the backyard. Not wanting to get in the way of him working towards the coveted green jacket, I went to the mailbox myself.
I opened the lid and without even looking, reached in….
BIG. FAT. FREAKIN. TOUCHED. IT.
That’s right. I touched a dead bird. In my mailbox. One of two thoughts entered my mind. Either Brooks is playing a joke or he is trying to slowly kill me.
I composed myself and headed to the backyard. I’m pretty sure he knew immediately what I was going to say, because he had this sort of smug little look on his face.
“Hey, uh, did you happen to put a bird in the mailbox?”
“Any reason why you did that?”
“Because I wanted to.”
You have got to be freaking kidding me! Because I wanted to?!
“Where did it come from?”
“It was in Ms. Mary’s yard, and when I went to get a popsicle I saw it and put it in the mailbox.”
Little sucker is still hitting the golf ball and not even batting an eye. I start getting grossed out thinking about him touching the stupid bird and then licking all over a popsicle with nasty dead bird hands.
“Oh, ok. Was it dead when you put it in there?” (Not really sure why I asked this, but I guess I felt like it was important to know at the time)
“Yeah. I think so.”
Seriously… I think so?! Boys are wired so differently than girls. There is no chance I would’ve touched a dead bird, let alone thought to pick it up and move it! And on top of that – who thinks to put it in the mailbox?
Brooks, age 5 years old, golfing king and dead bird picker-upper. Has a nice ring to it don’t ya think?
Of course it belongs in there!