I am in the kitchen cleaning. I can see the kids playing in the backyard. The sliding glass door is closed to keep the muggy hot air outside where it belongs.
I look up from my work to see Colin crouching on the patio and examining something. My gaze is redirected to a white and brown spot on the cement about the size of a golf ball. Alerts are sounding in my head as I nearly simultaneously 1. realize this is bird droppings and 2. notice Colin is extending a pudgy index finger toward the glistening smear 3. run across the kitchen 4. shout "Colin, NOOOOO!"
But he cannot hear me through the glass. Split seconds seem to pass as full minutes. Slow motion horror strikes as I'm dashing through the dining room, reaching for the door and see my pure, innocent baby dip and bring his once beautiful finger.....to his mouth.
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