Your mother is a wimp and a coward. I learned this about myself during a rather exciting storm this past weekend. Dad and I were watching TV when the rain started pounding down on the house and the wind began to howl. We both peeked through the front door window, but as we were unable to see much, Dad decided to open the door. Big mistake!
While we were standing on the front porch, unbeknown to us, we were soon not alone. When we went inside, I looked down and saw some movement at my feet. Within seconds, the action began as a bird flew past us into the living room. I screamed and headed toward the laundry room. Dad began closing doors while I stood unhelpfully nearby.
I knew in my heart that the bird was probably just as frightened as me, but still, I was paralyzed with fear, believing in my gut that it would gouge out my eyes or pull out my hair. Dad was screaming for me to help, but I could not budge. I was useless.
I grabbed a jacket from the laundry room door (I briefly considered covering my head with a laundry basket but knew that would have involved opening a door) and watched as the bird flew aimlessly around the kitchen as it attempted to plan an escape route.
Dad turned on all the lights and grabbed a stick from the garage, waving it and banging it as he tried to direct the bird toward the front door as he yelled, “Open it up. Open it up,” which I did as I hid behind the door thinking, “What if some of the bird’s friends decide to join him?”
Finally, the bird headed out the door, and Dad yelled “Close it. Close it.”
We dodged a bullet.
I then looked at the dining room table, where I saw Lily’s birthday cake. OMG! What a disaster that would have been if that cake had been involved in the crossfire of our battle. That would have been a disaster of monumental proportions.
I learned that day that I am truly a wimp. What would I have done if I had been alone? Would it have been wrong to dial 911?