Wild, Green Turkeys

"Ummm, Heaver," my four-year-old niece approached me with something clutched in her tiny little fists, "I found these. One by the TV and one by the bathroom where you lock the dogs in while I go swimming."  (*Note from the author:  We don't lock them in the bathroom.  They could totally get out on their own if they had thumbs.  So there.)


My niece then opened her little fist and showed me two green feathers.  Her little face reflected genuine interest in figuring out why I would have two green feathers in my house.

I'll bet these guys don't taste so good for Thanksgiving.

"Why do you have these, Heaver?" she asked.

"Well," I said thinking of something completely off-base I could say, "These feathers must mean that I've got a wild, green turkey running loose in my house."  Her little eyes widened at the prospect, and she slowly looked around the living room to see if perhaps there were a wild, green turkey that she had overlooked."

"How did it get in here?" she asked.

"Oh, you know your uncle," I said, blaming The Dad, "He never shuts the door.  He's all the time letting the hot air in and the cold air out.  I'll bet the wild, green turkey must have followed him in one day when he left the door open."

She nodded her head and, again, looked around hoping to spy the wild, green turkey that had shed the feathers she still held tight in her hand.

"Ummmm, Daughter 2?" my niece called out - not to question my explanation, but to brag that she now had a reason for the green feathers, "These feaders came from a wild, green turkey that runs around in your house when no one is watching."

Daughter 2 looked at my niece with pity.  Then she looked at me.  I couldn't tell what that look was, exactly, but I'm sure I'll see it a lot more when she hits middle school.

"We do not have a wild turkey," she explained, "We have a feather duster."  Quickly, she trotted into the bathroom where we lock the dogs in and returned with a green feather duster.  "See?" she said, "We were cleaning the house and those feathers fell out."

My niece, still fingering the feathers in her tiny little hands, looked at the feather duster then looked at me.  "Are these from a feather duster?" she asked cautiously with just a touch of broken-heartedness in her voice.

Always one to encourage independent thinking, I turned the question back to her, "What do you think? Do you think I have a wild, green turkey in my house or do you think I cleaned my house before you came?"

She looked at me, studying me very long and hard; then she looked at the feather duster but for a moment.  "I believe there is a wild, turkey in your house, Heaver," she said with a smile, "I don't think you cleaned your house."

She knows me well...