Little Smith has decided that he loves butterflies. He learned the sign language for them and flutters his tiny hands so elegantly to let me know when he spots one (or a fly or flag blowing in the wind or anything that remotely resembles a butterfly). Last Sunday when raindrops and grumpiness kept us from attempting our first ever family bike ride, we decided to drive up to a butterfly house we had heard about from friends.
I was fantasizing about a romantic glass house with soaring ceilings filled with butterflies and rare plants. It was some of that, but instead of the great architecture substitute cinderblocks and an awkward octagonal glass roof. Add a whole boatload of people... and then you can put back those gorgeous butterflies and plants which made up for the less than inspiring space.
Almost immediately butterflies started landing on us and Little S was kind of freaked out by their bold moves. I've been reading a little about temperament in children and I think it's safe to say that I can check the 'slow to warm up' box for my little guy. He came around though and started to enjoy them, then demanded to get down and proceeded to weave between crowds with zero concern for whether we were following. It was scary how fast he moved and I made a note to never, ever put him down in an open crowd. Yikes!
Of course we later learned that his morning grumpiness was actually the onset of sickness, but I do think he enjoyed his butterflies despite the haze of nausea. He is even more obsessed than ever now so we might hit up the Harvard museum of natural history and see some 'preserved' one's next.