what i have to deal with

There is a nest of robins about 10 feet from our back door.

Today we found, in a post-garage sale giveaway bin, a box full of kid kitchen toys: plastic cutlery, broccoli and cabbages etc.

I went on a 45 minute bike ride (yes I did!) today.

The children did not nap--either of them.

Scully thinks she is quite clever.

Here's how to put all those pieces together.

I wanted to go on a bike ride. The kids, having not napped, were bonkers. They needed to be outside. Scully can walk around but can't chase them for long periods of time. So the plan was that the kids would go outside in the back with Scully and do some sort of project to help centralize them.

We took all those kitchen toys and filled two washbins with soapy water. They got scrub brushes, towels and did the dishes in the yard. While I was on my (awesome) 45 minute bike ride they also dumped those washbins and made their own mudpile. Which they happily wallowed in until Scully brought them in for their bath.

Fast forward. The kids are now in bed and I ask Scully if the toys ever got picked up. No. Okay, so I'm heading out back to pick them up. Scully says, "look, one of the baby robins is sitting on the yellow washbin."

"Sorry baby robin," I reply, "I'm gonna make you move." I open the door, startle the baby bird who flies off (badly) and perches at Scully's vegetable garden. This must just be day 2 or 3 of flying school because the bird lost its balance on the chicken wire and fell into the garden. The chicken wire goes up about three feet and there was no way that bird was going to scale it.

Send the femme to rescue the bird!

So, armed with a kitchen towel, I go to pick up the bird and restore it to freedom.

CHHHHHHHIIIIRRRP!!!!!!

Baby bird calls for help. "Uh oh. Here comes mama" Scully chimes in laughing as a puffed up mama bird dive bombs my head.

"What?! Hey!" I throw the towel around. More angry grown birds appear. They are now lining the electrical wire above my house. They are swooping and trilling. I distinctly heard one say something like, "Don't you worry Horace! That bitch may get you but at least we'll peck her eyes out!!"

"Scully! You SUCK as a bat man!"

The bird is running away from my towel, still shrieking. We now have 147 adult robins swarming around our garden. I finally get a butterfly net and scoop up the reckless teenage robin.

Scully cannot stop laughing. She is crying, she's laughing so hard.

The baby bird spits at me, remarks that he and his friends will be watching for my car and flaps (badly!) away.

The mamas and mommies and papas and daddies and aunties and ex-lovers of the aunties and all the other bird relations ruffle their feathers, impressed with their own show of strength, and fly away.

"Unbelievable! What I have to deal with. . . " I complain to Scully. "You know when they tell that story they're going to make me out to be the asshole!"

"How many of them were there? Four?"

I give Scully my best glare. "There were at least eight or twelve!"

"Additionally," I tell her while smacking her ass to get back in the house, "I also had to deal with an asshole on the porch!"

"You so need to blog this."

"At last we agree."