"Mom, don't freak" as she pulls out a wad from her school shorts pocket.
"I found this under a mat at the playground," she says. I can only imagine how long she's had this in her pocket. Since lunchtime? Did she wash her hands at all? Did she go to gymnastics and tumble around with it in her pocket? I'm sorry to say I didn't ask any of these questions, though I did have her wash her hands immediately with soap.
Cradled in a tissue in her hands, a charming yet mostly featherless baby bird. Quite dead. Like a cat bringing home a prize. After properly freaking out her sister and showing her little brothers, I asked her to deposit it in the outdoor can.
I'll have to ask her next time to use a little box or something. Those shorts need a desperate laundering.
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