Memorial Day, caterpillar-style

When I was about 5 years old I was really into “pet” caterpillars. Like most kids, the idea of my fuzzy little friend transforming into a beautiful butterfly blew me away. Here was glamour and science working together. And it involved bugs, so HUGE bonus there. I would collect them, one after another, in the hopes of one day seeing a beautiful Monarch fluttering around in the jar-turned-terrarium I’d build for them. (That my caterpillars were nothing more than the Western Tent variety is a small-yet-pertinent detail a 5 year old typically ignores...)

Sadly, none of my pets made their full journey from little ‘pillar to beautiful winged friend. In fact, most perished well before their chrysalises even formed. And although I did once manage to sustain a caterpillar long enough for it to create a chrysalis, when I eventually found the common household moth fluttering madly in the Prego pasta jar, I was totally of bummed out.

Well, I guess these infatuations are timeless, ‘cause guess what new pet our family adopted yesterday while at Grandma’s house.

BMoC: “Mom! Look! It’s a caterpillar!”

Middle Man: “Hey, let me see!”

BMoC: “No! Get off. You’ll squish him. Leave him alone.” This said as BMoC picks the caterpillar up, flips it around in his hands and basically does not leave it alone.

While I left the boys to enjoy (but ultimately tire) of their new find, my mom stepped in and audaciously suggested that BMoC create a little habitat for it so he could KEEP it. Whipping around, I looked at my mom with an expression that said, “are you kidding me?!” My mom replied with an unspoken, but clear-as-crystal smile suggesting, “welcome to my world.”

Well, just like his mother, BMoC (unfortunately) does not have a future in zoology. Or at least not an unchaperoned one. Our Mr. Caterpillar did not make it to Day 2. (Quite frankly, I’m not sure he made it past Hour 2 in the plastic tub that was serving as his new home.)

"Mom? My caterpillar isn't moving?"

Ugh oh.

"Umm...maybe it's just taking a nap."

"Maybe. But, like, it's a really long nap. And see how when I shake the tub, he doesn't wake up."

Ah, yes. I wonder what ever could be the matter.

"OK, well let's give it until after lunch, and if he doesn't move by then, what do you think we should do?"

"I think he's dead."

And then tears.

"He was such a good friend. I'm going to miss him so much."

Right. You guys shared a lot together.

"Buddy, sometimes caterpillars are better left living outside, in the grass, where you find them. No matter how nice a home you make for them, maybe we should just leave them outside and visit them rather than move them into a new place."

"Maybe. Or maybe I just didn't have enough water in his new house."

Maybe.

Once BMoC called time-of-death, it was time to move onto proper burial services...

...as well as spreading the news to all family members, such as Husband/ Dad at work. (I made sure he called Daddy's cell phone so that even meetings were interrupted for the urgent and grave news.)

Memorial services are expected to continue tonight with a wake including comfort foods such as corn dogs and mac ‘n’ cheese.

Who wants to bet how long it takes to ask for a dog?