My mouth gaped open. "D, there’s a chickedee in the boy’s room." I stood there watching it hit itself against the window. Inside it looked large, not like the small little thing in the garden. D came to the doorway, "There IS a bird in the boy’s room!" He must have thought I was speaking metaphorically, there can be a problem with too much precision in speech, however, D did not freeze, he strode to the window without a screen, and opened it. Then he had to back away from the bird, who was knocking itself against the other window.
I hope the little thing didn’t damage itself.
We still don’t know how it got inside in the first place.
Both beds were free of droppings much to the boy’s relief at nap time.