On Friday, as Jesse-Lee and I were driving home, we were surrounded by thousands upon thousands of white butterflies, all fluttering in sort-of the same direction. Heaven only knows where they came from, or where they were going, but we fully intended going out and catching some of them that afternoon when we arrived home. A butterfly capturing expedition, as it were.
Donning our comfy shoes and sharing a fishing net, out we pranced in unison, certain that a variety of beautiful butterflies would soon be safely ensconced in our nifty plastic container.
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| "Butterfliiiiiies, come little butterflies! I will be your friend!" |
It took less than four seconds for us to discover that the pesky buggers are damn-near-impossible to catch!
There I was, prancing around like a mad fowl, jumping in the air and spraining muscles in an attempt to catch just one butterfly mid-air. Meanwhile Jesse-Lee "neak neak" (which is Jesse-Leeze for sneak sneak) catches not one but TWO butterflies (coitus interuptus) with her bare hands.
"Mommy, Mommy, they were sitting there holding hands and I just neak neak catched them!"
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| "I will name this one 'Orangey,' and I will name her friend 'Orangey Friend'." |
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