Baby Bird, Momma Bird

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things. ― Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

Yesterday we were playing Baby Bird and Momma Bird all day.  We "flew" around the house, flapped our wings all the way to the park and back, built a pillow nest on Maeve's bed and a twig nest outside, and ate "bird snacks".  I was racking my brain for bird-themed lullabies (hint: there are birds in My Favorite Things). 

It was kind of funny, but having her call me Momma Bird all day seemed entirely fitting.  It almost seemed like she was calling me by my real name, acknowledging something true about our relationship.  I feel like a very tired Momma Bird quite a bit of the time, really, flapping upstairs and down to fetch food for her little hungry, peeping mouth.  Pushing her out of the nest at times, keeping her safe inside at others. 

It looks like we're going to play today, too.  So if you hear insistent cheeping coming from my vicinity, it's just my baby bird, personifying herself more accurately than usual.