The bird and the tree frog

My son is such a stinker.  He is constantly pulling a fast one on me (as the Quackdaddy would say). He tells some of the tallest tales I have ever heard, and he is so serious, you don't realize he is making it all up...which is why I have such a hard time believing him anymore.

And brings to my story.

Jay was working nights and we were leaving for school one morning not to long ago.  We try to be quiet (you know how that is, every little sound is magnified by 100 when you're trying to be quiet) as we get ready for our day and leave...because Jay is just getting home and crawling into bed.

I was herding everyone out the door and had to go back to my bedroom for something.  When I came out, I heard Lane yell (quietly), "There's a bird," and then laugh.  I questioned what he meant by that, he smiled, like he does when he's pulling my leg, shut the door to the garage and went back out to the car.

I go to grab my jacket off the back of the bar stool (aka coat tree) and a bird flew past my head.   He wasn't joking this time. Snap.

The kids are in the car.  Jay is in bed.  We really need to be leaving for school/work.  And whatever I do, I need to be quiet.

I start trying to shoo the bird out and realize there are no doors or windows open.  The bird is flying all over the place looking for an escape.  It keeps hitting the kitchen window.  I run over to open the patio door, grab a broom and start swinging.  It sails out the door.  Hallelujah.  Leaving the bird in the house would not have went over well with two cats in the house and a sleeping giant.

Monday, we are getting ready for school/work and I tell Lane to take a shower.  He casually says, "Okay, but I'm not taking one in my bathroom."  To which I reply, "Why not?"  "Because there is a frog on the toilet."

Yeah, whatever.

He takes his shower in my bathroom, we eat breakfast, get dressed and are gathering our things to leave...when I run in to use his bathroom and there it is, a tree frog hugging the base of the toilet.

I know sometimes it sounds like we live in a cage, you know, with wires for walls and no ceiling, but we don't really, I promise.

I guess you could say we operate under an open door policy...