Life With Boys

Life with boys … I run upstairs to grab something from my closet … and the floor is covered with brown feathers … omg how did the cats kill a bird in my closet … wait, I would have heard the cats trying to get a bird up the stairs … I start to yell, “what have you guys done?” As I go flying down the stairs … the boy says, “took you long enough, but I heard it when you found it” … Me: “And how long has there been a dead bird in my closet?” … the boy replies, “it has been tucked in on your clothes bar for about 6 hours, and it is not a dead bird, it is a well preserved pheasant,” … so of course I have to ask, “well it was no longer on the bar and where did this amazing piece of taxidermy come from? … “The goodwill bins” … “You put a dead bird, from the bins, on my clothes? I don’t even like to touch stuff at the bins and you bought a dead bird there, and put it in my closet?” … then I feel something tap me on the back of the ear, and I let out a blood curdling scream … the other boy took the opportunity to sneak up behind me with the dead bird … and the grown up boy just looks at me with his patented look of exasperation and asks “well, what did you expect them to do with it?” … excuse me while I go soak in a bath of sanitizer