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The quality of mercy

My eldest son turns four this coming Friday.
Tonight, after his bath, he stopped in his tracks and asked why he could still hear birds singing in the garden.
I offered that they were still looking for a bed for the night.
He said, “Open the window and let the birdies sleep with me”.

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Soft, lost and submissive

This event occurred a few days ago. I reported the event to a friend by mail, and I canot get the event out of my head. So, I’ll just report it here direct from the mail originally posted…

“I left my work room this afternoon and, in the hall, a bird flew into my face. What a fright – for both of us. The little thing – red breasted but bigger and more skinny than a Christmas robin went into our bedroom and flew from the headboard to the wardrobe to the changing table. It was only when it had flown itself through panic and into exhaustion that I could get close enough to pick it up and show it the proper way out of the window – “this is glass. You can’t see it, but it hurts”

I expected it to make a token attempt to peck me – the way that living things do. But it didn’t. It was so completely submissive. I could have cried. Strange co-incidence that St Francis of Assisi came on board at the MySpace list the other day.”