We all piled into the car to take Finn for his birthday dinner and it was looking a little scary outside. After a gorgeous day, the rain and cold was on its way. We hurried along, but no sooner did we park when I hear the first wave of rain hitting the car. Luckily, Dave was the only one out of the car since I was still reaching for my purse and Tate’s sweater. I looked in the back seat to see if my umbrella was there.
Now, I can’t remember if he told me that he got pooped on by a giant bird with obvious stomach issues or if I looked up and saw that the rain that hit the car was very obviously not rain. Either way, both observations were in very short proximity to each other. Do birds even have stomachs or is it food in, let’s find an unsuspecting person or a clean car to poo on, double bonus points for both?
And then I laughed. I laughed hard.
I mean yes, I pulled out baby wipes and tried to help him out.
I was also calculating in my head how much bird poop one would have to get hit with and still make it to your six year old’s birthday dinner.
Turns out, for Dave, any amount of poop negates that dinner faster than you can say, “I think it’s supposed to be good luck…”