Waiting for Butterflies

Dear Munchkin,

You utterly amaze me in new and wonderful ways each day. The first time I brought you to the butterfly house, you weren’t quite ready. You were about two years old and completely freaked out by the butterflies. You spent the entire visit cringing and clinging to me. And when a wounded butterfly hobbled over and climbed up my pant leg, you burst into tears.

This time, impatient through your brother’s school presentation in the party room, you asked over and over to go see the butterflies. When we finally went into the greenhouse, you eagerly sought them out. We watched as they fluttered all around us, called out their colors, and talked at length about the ones who have “eyes” on their wings. Surprising all of us, two different butterflies landed on me within the space of five minutes.

We went to the nursery window and had the pleasure of witnessing a newly-hatched butterfly “playing” with its chrysalis to inflate its shriveled wings. Then while Daddy and I talked with one of Peanut’s teachers, you ventured into a nearby alcove and climbed up on the stone half-wall. I watched you sit there for a while, very still and quiet, before coming over to join you.

“Hey Munchkin, whatcha doin’?”
“I’m waiting for a butterfly to land on me.”

I barely maintained my composure at this announcement. We waited about ten minutes as butterflies flew within centimeters of us, but none chose to land. I could feel your disappointment, especially since you had shown such concentration and determination to remain statuesque for so long. I reminded you that our cats sometimes make their own choices, too, rather than doing what we want them to. We decided that we’d try again next time and agreed to walk around some more, your hand in mine.

I loved sharing those peaceful moments with you, just being together.

When I told Daddy about our little interlude, he noted that the only times he’s ever seen a butterfly land on a person, it was me. I reminded him that one had landed on Grandpa when he’d visited before we were married. “Must run in the family,” he chuckled.

I hope so, Munchkin. I hope so.

Love,
Mama

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