My four-year-old saw a bird through the window screen. Somehow this elicited from her a very loud, very off-key rendition of the chorus from Frozen’s “Let it go.”
“The bird is not flying away,” she pauses to tell me.
“Maybe it likes your singing,” I suggest.
“Maybe it likes ‘Let it go,'” she tells me.
“That could be,” I say, and she keeps singing for all she’s worth. Finally, having heard enough, the bird did indeed go.
“It flew away,” my daughter tells me sadly.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a frown.
Then, looking at me, her face brightens. “Maybe it didn’t like your hair!”
If this were nesting season, I’m sure it would have liked my hair just fine.