This is Why I Hate Birds . . .

After we ate dinner tonight, Andrew wanted to go outside and shoot hoops and Alexa wanted to go for a bike ride.  On our way back, Andrew (who ended up walking with us) stops suddenly and says, "I think something just pooped on me."  I stop.  I look at him for a second or two, absorbing what he just said, and then I look.  Sure enough there is a bit of bird poo in his hair.

I would love to tell you that I reacted exactly as I should have, unfortunately . . . this is me and I did not.  I started to say, "This is why I hate birds," but I was laughing too hard.  Tears were pouring from my eyes. Since Andrew is a boy, his reaction was to try and rub his head on me.  I was trying hard to get away from him, but I had the dog on the extendable leash and Alexa blocking us on the tricycle.  She's screeching because Gracie's running around in all of the excitement of me trying to get away from Andrew, and wrapping up Alexa (who doesn't like being wrapped up with the dog in the extendable leash).  Unfortunately  in the end, Andrew got his head wiped on me.  Which he loved.  I did not.  

I instruct him to go wash his hands immediately (because he wiped the poop off with his hands)!  When he's half way up in the yard, he turns around and says, "You better not do anything else to embarrass me!"  And Alexa turns to me and says, "Uhhh Mom, why does my brudder have bird poopie hands?"   

So . . . this perfectly explains why I hate birds. You never know where they're going to poop.  I have heard it's considered good luck, but I can promise you, I don't think getting poop on me is going to lead to any type of good karma.  

Oh, and if you see Andrew anytime soon don't tell him you know about this.  He told me not to tell anyone.