It's 6:30ish.
I'm dead asleep, until I hear this:

Oh my gosh!
Oh my gosh!
Oh my gosh!
Oh my gosh!
Oh my gosh!
Oh my gosh!

I jump out of bed, grab my mace, and run to toward the oh my goshing.

It's Hannah.
And there's a dead, almost mummified bird on our kitchen floor.

The Sawyer-dog carried it in from the backyard.

It's not funny; Hannah was truly bothered, but... I couldn't help laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh.

The whole picture was hilarious.

Anne and I in our pajamas with disheveled hair, racing into a kitchen with a dead bird, a proud dog and a disgusted Hannah.

Oh, I'm chuckling some more just thinking of it.