In the car today, Owen said, "Mom? What kind of bird is that?"
A flock of birds had just taken off from a building, soaring into the sky, free of annoying children asking science-y questions in the backseat.
I turned to look more closely for a second before I realized I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA ABOUT BIRDS.
So I said, "I don't know, Owen."
And he said, "Mom? Over there, those birds, do you see those birds?"
"Yes, Owen, I do."
"Mom? What kind of birds are they?"
"I still don't know, Owen."
"Mom? Do you think they are pigeons running away from a Peregrine Falcon?"
And then Sam said, "Mom? I'm not judging, but did you just run a red light?"