Thursday, May 3, 2012


My daughter is upset.

She is sad because for the last few hours that she has been awake (that includes this morning and last night added together) pretty much all I've been telling her is that her new pet is dead. That can dampen your spirits. Just to be clear here we didn't get a new pet. My daughter caught a butterfly (well - a moth) and decided it was a) her new pet, and b) her new best friend. Except from the moment she picked it up it obviously could no longer fly and was not long for this world.

I should point out that she didn't actually catch it. Instead she attracted it to us in some sort of shaman magical ceremony. While I was having a good go at cleaning the bottom of a pan she came to me and started saying, "I have groups of three Daddy - you have to help me..." with a concerned look on her face. She then had me help her place an arrangement of three bug toys and/or hair-ties on each window of our house. Which should be fairly ordinary and cute (she decorates like this all the time) - but she seemed iffy and concerned that I'd taken so long cleaning the pan that we might now make it in time. She even kept saying, "quickly Daddy - we have to do it quicker" which is probably just a kid self-absorbed in the importance of their own self-existence, and not my daughter being The Chosen One operating against a deadline to ward off some evil entity about to attack our home. Anyhoo -:

So those are the windows. I should perhaps point out that I have had two entirely separate people three thousand miles apart offer to use a blessed/magical liquid on the windows of where I was living to keep evil out. So it's a running theme. Oh - and I should also point out that we spent more time digging in the back yard just prior to the voodoo/Magi window gargoyle thing my daughter frantically engaged in - and I uncovered another pile of bones triggering nothing in me, but oddly somehow triggering the innate Horror Movie Scaredy-Cat gene in my daughter. I may have made a silly ten second video about a scary eye-rock outside - but my daughter would come running genuinely worried that it was looking at us through the window every 20 minutes.

Just to top it off we had come back in the house quickly due to a tragedy - that being I nearly removed my own nipple trying to fix the lawnmower. Some people I mentioned this too seem to think that would make good blog-fodder and I imagine they were expecting a photograph. Well tough titties (that's genius right there) - I'm not showing off my chest to other people and have them tease me about my unusually efficient (or "small" as some people say) nipples. Besides - I believe in a trade for trade nipple photograph exchange.

Anyway - the windows were now, "protected" (her words - so you can see why it's different than, "decorated") and I went to the kitchen to make soup. Two minutes later my daughter screams, "Daddy!! LOOK!!" She was stood at the back door - so I just assumed the eye-rock was still looking at her. Instead this had happened -:

 So yeah - she was convinced that she could now magic-up butterflies. She assured me this one is a good one (which I wasn't concerned with until she mentioned it) and named it Buttercup. Buttercup didn't move after we saw her. Except of course for when my daughter kept sneaking outside and picking her up. My daughter asked if she could make her a nest so I let her do that. Then I had the casual chat about how Buttercup can't fly now and will likely be gone (ie - blown away or rained off) in the morning. No - my daughter was certain her best friend wouldn't just leave. So I skipped the sugar-coating and told her Buttercup was either dead now or very close to it. My daughter knows all about death so I assumed she'd just take it on board - process it - and we'd move on. Nope - she's had some sort of emotional revolt to the fact of it all.

Last night it rained pretty hard. I completely forgot about Buttercup until I was sorting out the garbage. I glanced at the eye-rock and no Buttercup. I told my daughter in the breeziest way and she went to check for herself. "Daddy - Buttercup is under the rock. She must have used it as an umbrella."

So now I'm in the position of not wanting her to get too happy about the whole situation because Buttercup is very clearly as dead as the rock she fell under. And any push-back I've given my daughter has been met with stifled whimpering.

On the plus side she didn't become unnaturally attached to one of the bones we found. That would have been weirder.

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