“You shake the corn while I go get a screwdriver to fix the owl.”
Christine got up from her spot on the floor in a desperate sprint to save the owl.
I looked down and stared Kieran in the face, and as he normally does, Kieran averted his eyes just far enough to not be looking directly back at me. He sighed, I shook the corn and my wife rummaged through the drawers frantically looking for the elusive screwdriver.
The owl sat quietly while the corn chattered away in my hand. Kieran turned his head this way and that never quite looking at any of us.
“I found it!” came Christine’s voice from somewhere behind the desk. I could see her hand shoot high in the air holding a tiny screwdriver aloft not unlike the Statue of Liberty holds her torch.
The owl almost looked relieved.
The corn continued it’s noisy, clattering ways.
Kieran blinked once.
And I was thankful that the owl might just sing again.