Well, we took off on another biking odyssey today, this time from the town of Erin to the town of Hillsborough. Along the way, we stopped for some water. While we were enjoying the frigid temperatures and shivering blossoms, Spills suddenly said, "What's that bird doing?"
We all looked. It was sashaying across the road, stopping every few minutes to do disco-like moves.
"Is it looking for food?" Spilly asked.
Daddy said, "I think it's looking for love."
It did seem to be doing some kind of ritualized dance, bobbing up and down rakishly before hopping ahead a little, then shimmying some more.
"Maybe he has a girlfriend on the other side," I said.
"Maybe she likes dancing," Spills said.
And we all laughed at a girlfriend bird who liked her boyfriend to dance.
But it got me to thinking about my hubby and his own courtship of me (since it's our eleventh anniversary next week). How much sillier was it for him to lure me into playing Poohsticks off the bridge at the University of Western Ontario, to name a church "The Church of the Bouncing Brushes" because we had been going by it when a truck zoomed past with brushes bouncing off the back, or to lavish unusual snacks on me ("I call it a cheese and bacon nibble") or to write me multiple silly letters a day--some that were "scratch and sniff"--while I was in England with my parents?
These foolish boys, they will do anything to catch a girl.
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