Christmas Serindipity

What is it called when two random components intersect to make circumstances better?  Serindipity?  Well, whatever it is called, that is what I am enjoying this Christmas.  Let me explain.

A number of weeks ago, we watched our friends' exotic bird, Dexter, while they vacationed over fall break.  Dexter pecked me on the face within the first hour.  Hard.  After that I refused to go near him.  The bird only loved Mr. Wicke (who can blame him really?) and spent most of the time when he was at home happily perched on his shoulder.  I called him Long John Silver. 

The bird did, however, finally surrender to Griffin's overzealous care.  Kind of like Lenny from Mice and Men, Griffin can express his love for animals in a none-too-gentle manner, but as the bloody peck mark on my cheek proved, the bird was not defenseless.  At the beginning of the week when Griffin complained, "Ow!  The bird pecked me!"  I would say, "Well, put it in it's cage and leave him alone then!  Stop messing with him!"  But Griffin could not be convinced in anyway to ignore such a fascination.  All week long, almost every hour of every day, Griffin manhandled the bird.  By the end of the week, Griffin had loved him into submission.  Dexter would render himself to Griffin's hands, quite sure, I think, that any disquietude would merely prolong the torture.

But his rendering did not apply to the rest of the family, especially to our toddler, who, like me in the beginning, was a bit fascinated with his beautifully colored feathers.  One bite to the finger took care of that, and for the rest of the week, Lincoln distanced himself from the bird.

Now, fast forward to Christmas. (Trust me, this is going to come together.)  I was sure that our tree would be demolished this year.  Sparkly glass balls and a 21 month old have no business being in the same room.  And as the rest of us decorated our fruit, berry, and bird themed tree after we put him to bed, I couldn't help but wonder how I was going to keep Lincoln out of it in the morning.

When he awoke and we brought him downstairs, he certainly was fascinated with the wonderful beauty of the thing, but after 4 days, he continues to maintain his distance.  Staying at least a foot away, he merely squeals with delight, "Birdy!  Birdy!  Tweet, tweet, tweet!"  He has yet to lay a finger on it. 

Thanks to Dexter, the birds are standing guard this Christmas.  I only hope it takes him longer than three weeks to realize they are not really alive.