This story happened long ago. My son was six and we lived in an old house near a large park. There ___BE___ lots of people in the park at weekends and we enjoyed walking and playing there too. One day, my son ___BRING___ an injured bird from the park. It was a crow. Its wing ___BREAK___ and the bird could not fly. I didn’t know what to do with the crow, but my son said that he ___TAKE___ care of it.
“If you were a couple of years ___OLD___, you could manage it. But I doubt you can do it now,” I tried to talk him out of keeping the crow but finally agreed to take the bird home.
The next day we took the crow to the vet. The vet fixed and bandaged the wing and explained to ___WE___ what medicines we should give to the bird.
“Ok,” he said, as we left, “I ___DO___ everything I can. There’s no need to bring this crow here any more. The bird is young and strong, and I think it ___RECOVER___ soon. This is the good news. The bad news is that it will never be able to fly again.”
“We’ll see,” my son ___NOT/WANT___ to agree with this fact too easily.