Tweet Tweet

I took my little Nephew Keldon a toy the other day. It's a fuzzy little chick that tweets when it sits on your hand. I think the moisture from your skin connects with these two little electrical diode uh....thingymabobs. Anyway, the chickie tweets.

Watching Baby Kel play with his chickie reminded me of the first tweeting toy chickie that I was exposed to. It belonged to my son Kolby.

Kolby loved making that little bugger tweet. One Sunday we were having a bit of an argument because he wanted to take his chickie to church and MOM thought that an incessant tweeting chickie might just get us kicked out. Well stubborn Kolby said he was TAKING his chickie and headed to the door. He opened the front door, (tweet, tweet, tweet). Then he touched the screen door (tweet, tweet). Little did Kolbs know that there was a twitterpated birdie out in our fir tree who wanted to MEET his chickie! He opened that screen door and Mr Twitter divebombed Kolby in order to rescue chickie (I can only assume it was a man bird, cuz us girls aren't nearly that hard up for love).

Well being the cool and collected mom that I am, I hit the deck screaming with my arms over my head (I have this problem with flappy flying things). Kolby looked bewildered and then somewhat alarmed as Twitter was still trying to kiss chickie. He did the wisest thing possible and chucked chickie as far away as he could. Daddy was being no help at all as he was laughing his @$$ off in the kitchen. Mama is still prone on the floor trying to regain some courage (not to mention dignity ) and little Kelsie was sitting on the floor next to Mom munching on a graham cracker taking everything in with those big blue eyes.

After Dad and Mom were able to compose themselves, we went throughout the house opening every door and window so we could herd poor little lovelorn Twitter back outside where his feathery butt belonged.

The good news is little Kolbster forgot all about taking his tweeting chickie to church after this adventure.