So we headed out this morning for a bike ride on the Caledon Trail, despite the fact that Spills woke up with the world's runniest nose. "It's just allergies," she'd said.
"What are you allergic to?" I asked. I already knew what she'd answer.
"Worms."
"Right."
Out we went, in the early morning sunshine, surrounded by the soft green of buds opening up. All was silent and fragrant. Until Spills let out the most extraordinary sneeze known to humankind. Followed by another and another.
What happened next was unexpected, to say the least. From the greenery on one side, there was an explosion of feathers, and a grouse or a pheasant (it was a large bird of some kind anyway) shot up and then backward. Then, as if that wasn't enough, a DEER leapt up from nowhere and galloped away as fast and as loudly as it possibly could. We heard it crashing through the undergrowth for some time.
"Wow," said Daddy, after awhile. "Those are some sneezes you've got."
"Why did they run away?"
"I guess they didn't want to be near your cold."
"I know who wants to be near my cold."
"Who?"
"The doctor," Spills said sadly.
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