OK, now I can continue with a clear conscious.
Recently, Conor came home from day care with a new poem for us. We had never heard it before and cannot get enough of it. I am so glad to have captured a video of him saying it because I'll probably want to watch it again and again ... even when I'm old and gray. (OK, older and grayer.)
Translation:
The big birdies fly up in the sky.
Down in the nest, the little birds rest.
The bright sun comes up.
The dew goes away.
'Good morning, good morning' the little birds say.
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