Lucy has a baby bird. It is a baby crow. She likes holding it in her hands while we're in the car. And also when we're walking in the parking lot. If I need her to hold my hand, I tell her to put the baby bird in her pocket.
Is it clear yet this is a pretend bird?
On the way home, she was talking to her baby bird. Then, she yelled, "Mama!!"
I was about to respond when she added, "Bird!!!"
Then again. "Mama...bird!!"
More indecipherable words. Then, to me, "Baby bird crying for her mama. Found her mama. Mama with her!"
"Oh, Lucy, how nice," I said. "I bet the baby bird feels much better now."
"Huh, yeah," she said.
Then a minute later. "Dada! Dada! Bird!"
"Did the baby bird find her dada, too?" I said.
"Yeah. Now have Mama and Dada."
Nice and nuclear, I thought.
But then, a minute later...
"Grandma! Grandma bird!"
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