Yeah, November ... So I found a monarch butterfly caterpillar and I sent it to school with Lyra and Parker. The teacher seemed to appreciate it but I was surprised when Lyra and Parker came home with a butterfly in a jar. I guess if it was getting cool for caterpillars, it was definitely too cold for butterfly... so what were we to do? I couldn't send this beautiful butterfly to a cold death any more than the teacher could. So I did the only reasonable, rational thing an adult could do. Lyra and Parker gathered as many of the butterfly blossoms that were left in the yard, we loaded them in vases and put them in my room. That butterfly was just going to fly laps in our house till we hit a warm spell again. I thought we would try it out in my bedroom first, just to ensure that the babies didn't eat it while it was still testing out its wings. Well, the kids thought it was awesome. Lyra and Parker went in there to watch it flutter around almost the rest of the day. Once it landed on Lyra and I had told her not to touch it so when it landed on her she didn't know what to do and it sat there walking up and down her arm till I heard her softly crying. The butterfly had rough feet and it was just scaring her, but she was obediently waiting for it to leave by itself so that she wouldn't hurt it by touching it. I was really proud of her, but swiped the thing off. No one makes my kid cry. humph.
The butterfly startled Chris when he first walked into the room, but thankfully, It seemed content to 'sleep' once it got darker in the room. Do butterfly's sleep? Chris probably has an awesome youtube video on that. The next day I noticed that the butterfly spent almost all it's time crawling on the drapes over the windows, instead of on the many vases of flowers about the room so I thought I would give the room more real sunlight and opened the drapes. The butterfly flew across the room at full speed, right into the window pane. ops. After that, it was all down hill. The thing flopped about and couldn't pull it's tong in.. It was going to die, and soon. So, as what I hoped was a humane gesture, I took it outside. At least it's last few breaths could be open free air... the cold would give it a quicker death, too. Later that day when I had to explain what had happened, Lyra took it as a matter of fact, but Parker went to sit by himself. I walked over to visit with him and he ended up in my lap, crying for the fallen butterfly.
I sat there trying to explain that Heavenly father would be sure to take good care of it (hoping that the general wording would comfort, but not propose shady doctrine). But Parker was still upset. Finally I proposed that we say a prayer to help him feel better about it. He agreed and asked me to say it. I did and, with a silent prayer in my heart that heavenly father would give Parker something he would realize as an answer, we sat there rocking back and forth in the rocking chair for a few moments. Parker silently slipped out of my lap. He started to walk around a bit and then played and suddenly looked into his hands and then up at me with the most intense joy and excitement. I asked him if he felt better and he stood there, almost frozen with excited energy. "Yeah!" he said. "Well, then, we had better tell Heavenly father thank you." Parker said a characteristically frank and honest report to Heavenly father of his current state right there on his feet and then frolicked and jumped his little self right out of the room. I was so very grateful that both my prayers were answered. He probably won't remember that specific instance, but with any luck it will be the first in a long series of events that will help him develop a solid and mature relationship with God. I hope so. Last week Parker also asked me with a frank confusion why his eyes were making tears when he wasn't sad. I asked him when that had happened and he explained that it had happened at church. I then asked him if he had been feeling good or happy at the time, and he confirmed that he had. And I again got to explain that it was how Heavenly Father helps us to know he loves us, by sending the holy ghost to sometimes help us feel how he loves us. Hopefully it was actually that, and not, you know, tear gas or just gas or heaven knows what else it could have been. Oh, and a fun continuation of the butterfly story, the butterfly weed that we had picked and put in my room had developed a Caterpillar before I had managed to throw it out. A butterfly must had laid eggs on that particular stalk. Well, cant let that beautiful green and black thing out in the cold...
I remember one morning, I looked at that milkweed and also saw that the green pods on it were dried and had begun to peel back, revealing soft, huge dandelion fluffs. You know, like when you blow a dandelion that has a full white round head. You blow it, and puff. All those beautiful seeds go wafting around on tiny white umbrellas. This was just like that, except they were white stars, the size of a baby's curled hand. I actually discovered them one morning while the kids were all sitting at the table waiting for breakfast. It was a memorable scene. The house was clean, they all sat around that lovely wooden table under that the golden glow of the Edison bulbs hung in the kitchen table fixture. There was soft, violet sunrise filtering in through the gauzy kitchen curtains, gently illuminating the bright morning faces framed with shimmering bed head curls. I blew a few feathery stars over the table and the kids quietly giggled as they, in turn, puffed to make the little stars spin and dance in the air around them. It was so peaceful. So beautiful and pristine in it's own way.
Obviously it was a beautiful, vivid moment that will never quite translate. Anyway, I did leave the butterfly in the house and kept him in a vase of flowers on my kitchen counter. He was actually really good company while Chris was away. I would do dishes at night and watch him much on the leaves. I named him Frank. Eventually when Frank got really good and fat, I had to put him in a jar instead of just having him out. I didn't want little Frankie to pupate somewhere randomly in the house. That and you didn't know this, but caterpillars actually make a LOT of poop and I was tired of wiping it off the counter. The jar is now outside, on the porch and I am going to tack the lid to the underside of a fence post. The cold will keep him inside the cocoon till it warms up a bit and then he can have plenty of room to dry his wings when he does come out.
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