Dear Bird,

Reuben woke me up in the middle of the night. I got him back in his bed, and he was asleep. You, my friend, kept me up. Chirping away like you had spring fever. You had me hoping that when the sun finally rose it would reveal melted snow, and a green foot hill.

You, dear bird, are not allowed to do that again. There is no melted snow, instead there is more snow falling. There is no green foothill, in fact, I can't even see the foothill, just white.

You need to learn that mommy's need their sleep, and that if you cry wolf no one will trust you.

Come back when it is really spring. I'll be happy to listen to you then.