Nesting

Devoted readers (that really means all of you) will recall the nesting game that Greta and Mommy played this autumn in the leaves. Well, it's now too chilly outside and the leaves are gone, but the game endures. This is our bed most every morning after breakfast.

That's every pillow we own, stacked and shaped to form a nest. Greta sits in it and narrates a story about birds. She's the Baby Bird most of the time, requiring various things from Mommy and Daddy Bird. Fly here, fly there, deliver that flashlight to the nest, protect Baby Bird from eagles.

Wednesday morning I added a new wrinkle, asking Baby Bird if she was hungry. She said she was and I asked her what birds eat. Worms!

So this is Daddy Bird, playing Mommy Bird, feeding Baby Bird a worm that tastes like string cheese.

Not to be outdone, Greta added a storyline of her own. Carey bought me this oddly shaped alarm clock for Christmas.

It's like a metallic Weeble Wobble. Conveniently shaped like an egg.

So now my alarm clock is buried in the middle of the nest so Greta can play Mommy Bird and chant, "Hatch, Baby Bird, hatch!"