We just walked Riley to school. Seth is half a block ahead of me on his little bike as we make our way home along the tree lined sidewalk. It's rained, and it's wet. The air smells of worms.
A mother robin swoops down, landing on the sidewalk in front of me. She puffs up her chest. If she had hands, they'd be firmly on her hips.
"Don't worry mama. I have no interest in harming your babies." I think to myself, imagining little open beaks squawking in a nest in a nearby tree.
In one of our former houses, there was a nest under our deck. The protective robins terrorized our little dog all spring, going so far as to nip her in the butt when she tried to do her business in the yard.
I have an IEP meeting this afternoon.
I know just how Ms. Robin feels. I'll try not to nip any butts, but I can't promise.