The baby birds are flying. They haven’t really mastered flying (they tend to fly into the garage wall before deciding to stop) but they are definitely propelling themselves around. In no time at all they will leave the nest and be on their own.
So will you. (Although it has taken you 18 years to accomplish what they have done in less than 18 days.) We’ve watched you go from a helpless little baby to a toddler who frequently stopped by crashing into furniture to a ravenous teenager to …. Now.
I don’t know how birds relate to their adult offspring. I doubt they text very often. I’m pretty sure they don’t let them use the car. Or pay for college. Maybe this wasn’t the best metaphor I’ve ever come up with.
The baby birds have discovered they like hanging out on top of the open garage door. It’s high and it’s safe and I bet they feel a sense of accomplishment having gotten up that high. They won’t be there much longer, but I do enjoy checking to see what they’re up to. So does the mama bird. She keeps a close eye on her babies.
Please don’t climb on top of the garage door this summer. But I do enjoy knowing what you’re up to.
You have strong wings, kid, and they will carry you far. Just be sure to come back to the nest every now and then.