Poor little guy--didn't stand a chance against our front window. Matthias keeps telling me "Daddy, I saw the birdie died. He's crash right through the window. He must not to do that otherwise he will get an owie and he will get a tummy ache. He's resting now he died. Right Daddy?" Part of me marvels at my son's first encounter with death and his processing through it. Such a part of life that we're often more removed from today.
Part of me just resents having to scrape up the remains of this little guy (including the feather scraps he left on the window)--ironic since I've dropped 9 gopher bombs in the last 5 weeks (why do I feel a sudden kinship with Bill Murray?)in the same yard .
