The day that Hip Hop died

A few months ago, Brian ordered a butterfly larvae kit for the girls. It finally arrived last week and they have spent every day watching the caterpillars morph into butterflies.

Today, all but one had come out of his cocoon, but it was shaking, so Brian had to help break the cocoon open. Since most of the others had been out for a day or two, they released them--all except for the one. It was unable to fly, so the girls spent the day "training" it. They named him Hip Hop and carried him from room to butterfly habitat. They talked to him and told me in pained voices, that he was probably going to die.

After the girls went to bed, I checked on Hip Hop and he is not moving--even though he is sitting on an orange slice the girls put in the habitat to help him gain his strength. When they wake in the morning, they will be heartbroken.

I know these moments are supposed to be the teachable ones, but they totally suck! I thought about writing a post tonight about saying goodbye to the old life and hello to the new--I even had a great analogy about our soccer experience to embellish it. But when I sat down to write, I just couldn't. I keep hearing my girl's voices as they were coaxing Hip Hop to fly and I don't care about any lessons--I just want them to wake up excited to see the stinkin butterfly alive so they can release him, too.

While I know it's just a butterfly, not a person or a pet, it is still a big part of their world for today. I guess that is part of parenting--acknowledging the things that they grieve over them and not making light of them. (But, I'd still rather the stinkin butterfly would come back to life).