Leaving to pick up Charlotte from preschool after Benjamin's morning nap is usually uneventful. Today, a dead bird lay with white eyes and feet pointing toward the sky on our front stoop.
"How fast can you get that thing out of here," I thought as I called the main office of our apartment complex.
All the way to Owings Mills and all the way back (25 minutes total), I rehearsed the conversation about the dead bird.
Yes, it was there upon our return. Yes, her questions came fast and furious. No, she was not shaken by it but those smart little wheels were just turning and turning.
The best question was: "Did it die while it was flying?"
That's a good one.