7 Quick Takes Friday, #72

1. Did you know that 'miniscule' is actually spelled 'minuscule'?  How weird is that?

2.  Mia got a new bed this week.  It's stunning to see just how tiny she looks engulfed in the middle of a twin-sized bed.  The bed is vast and broad and enormous while she is small and precious and innocent.  I'm starting (starting?) to have symptoms of clingy-mommyhood just looking at her.  She's a little girl.  Not a baby.  Not even a toddler.  A little girl.   

3.  While Justin put the bed frame together, Mia was by his side 'helping' and questioning his every move.  She loves to be involved in things like this: building, cooking, organizing, cleaning -- she's quite the willing apprentice.  And I don't really think Justin minded her presence too much.  I peeked in the room once during the process and heard Mia saying, 'Oh, good job Daddy!  You're a genius!'  His chest may have even puffed out a bit. 



4.  To make room for the new bed, we switched Lauren to Mia's toddler bed.  This doesn't seem so monumental to me, maybe because we've already been through this transition once, but also because a toddler bed is exactly the same size as a crib.  With her I can still pretend she's a baby.  Only, when she falls out of bed at night and tells me a long story about it the next morning, my baby-bubble is burst wide open.  'Mama, I fall out da bed yast night an I cwied an daddy hold me and we tnuggled!' kind of makes me think she's a little girl now, too.  Will it never end?!

5.  Here's my sad news for the week: The bird's nest and all the tiny blue eggs were destroyed.  I've been just a bit on the depressed side all week because of this, and I've GOT to snap out of it, but I also had to tell you guys.  You who were so excited with me and helpful with advice -- I couldn't leave you hanging. 



6. This is what happened, if you're interested:

We had a large box delivered and the UPS man left it right under the porch light.  Right under the bird's nest.  Thinking it was too heavy for me to move, I left it there until Justin got home from work.  Sometime that afternoon, the neighbor's cat scaled the box and ripped the nest to bits, crushing the eggs in the process.  (I would have suspected our cat, but I know where he was all afternoon: hiding in our garage.  He's been a mess since the fireworks a while back, and has been pretty skittish.)  There were tiny, wet, feathered birds in each egg, days from being ready to hatch. But days away from being able to survive outside the egg.  Justin found one that was barely moving, and scooped it back into what was left of the nest, hoping the mama bird would be able to care for it.  But she hasn't been back. 



7. The worst part (somehow) is that the cat was only playing with them.  He didn't want to eat them -- the eggs were just smashed from the fall.  He didn't need the eggs for any reason, he just wanted to mess with them.  And in messing with them, he killed them.  I'm so sad and mad and guilty.  If I'd only moved that box, which had turned out to be light after all...

And I know that these eggs and birds may have met a similarly gruesome end out in nature somewhere, but it doesn't make me feel any better.  I felt protective of them.  I felt some ownership and hope for their flight.

Blech.  I wish I had a happier ending note.




I do hope you have a gorgeous summer weekend, and be sure to head over to Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes (probably with happier ending notes...).