“I did have a mother,” said the baby bird. “I know I did. I have to find her. I will. I WILL!”

“There she is!” he said. “There is my mother!” He crawled right up to it. “Mother, Mother! Here I am, Mother!” he said as he latched on and started to nurse.

I am NOT your Mother! I am a . . . 

…

…

…

…

…

Needless to say, as part of our baby proofing efforts, we’ve started removing the plastic tip from the doorstops throughout the house.

Any guesses?

I honestly didn’t know what she was saying until she asked: “Are mocharecitals dangerous?”