A New Stephen King Novel Idea: The Butterflies

The Butterfly Exhibit

On Monday, we decided to meet some of my friends at the local mall (not to shop, as would be my dream) but to visit a local "butterfly exhibit".

World's Worst Picture of Butterfly "Exhibit"

What you can't see from the outside of this sophisticated installation is that the tent is actually full of ... you guessed it... insects with big wings called butterflies!!!

After we paid our $15 to get in, I told Gillian that she could feed the butterflies with the q-tip full of red gunk that we were handed by a woman who also told us not to step on the butterflies. It was a horrible warning that almost became a reality as Bryce bombed around that tent eating pretzels while butterflies latched onto his shoes.  Not kidding, ask Gillian, she is still talking about it 3 days later.

There are no pictures from inside the tent because it was like a scene from the Stephen King novel, Birds. The butterflies hung with their gross insect legs from the top and sides of the tent, and a few unlucky (or smart) butterflies laid on the ground, hoping that someone would end their lifetime stay at Butterfly Guantanamo.

While I tried to conceal my panic that we were in an oversize fly trap, Gillian stared in horror at the butterflies flapping around. A woman about my age started ducking and screaming as she was being attacked by a lone angry butterfly.  This tent was very small and there was limited space for an adult to carry on like this. Simultaneously, Bryce came dangerously close to murdering a butterfly, and Gillian burst into tears and started yelling, "take me out, take me out". I had one of these little bugs glued to my q-tip, which I dropped and ran without looking back. I may have also screamed a little.

Bryce seemed unaware that anything weird had happened. He continued to eat his pretzels and didn't express any interest when my friend, Lisa, (who also dragged her son to butterfly hell for 30 seconds) took the kids on a large, motorized animal ride around the mall.

  After the animal ride, we blew out of that mall as fast we blew out of that butterfly tent. Bryce's goodwill ended when his pretzels ran out and Gillian's lasted only moments longer, after she saw Wetzel's Pretzels and asked me for them 10x before dissolving into tears (10 seconds after this photo was taken).

When we arrived home, we discovered that a very large tree was being removed across the street. We sat outside and watched as they cut down the tree, branch by branch. Thankfully, we didn't see any stray butterflies!

Bedtime with Gillian: Still not on the Other Side

First, some pics of the little monkeys:

Bedtime Attire: we're getting our moneys worth out of that free orange shirt

Kids on a picnic with Paula and their munchkin friends. 

Devouring Coconut (Dairy Free) Chocolate Popsicles (they were in heaven)!

Back to Bedtime:

About six months ago, I shared with our dear and limited readership that our biggest bedtime complaint with Gillian was regarding time investment (large) required to "put Gillian to bed".  

While there was a 10 step program just to get out of the room "way back when", it pales in comparison to the mental breakdown (Gillian's) and personal angst (mine) that follows the click of Gillian's door closing after we say goodnight.

Almost every night for the past few months, Chad and I have been treated to the bloodcurdling screams of a three year old maniac, trapped like a rat (thank god) in her crib, making a wide array of demands. They include (but aren't limited to):

• I want a tissue!
• I have to go pee pee in the potty!
• I want a hug!*
• I want the princess book
• I want my agua!
• I want to see the moon!
• Take the tape out of my room! (I left scotch tape on her dresser, ten feet from her crib, invisible to the naked eye, and she wanted it gone).

For your viewing pleasure and to share with you a small sample of the peace that Chad and I get to enjoy each and every evening, below are some of Gillian's finest moments. See if you can translate her screams into one of the demands above (just like a NYT crossword puzzle)!

Footnote on Hug Request

*recently, we lied to Gillian and told her that we weren't going to dinner (despite her noticing that we weren't in our pajamas at 7pm and asking if we were going out). We left her with one of Paula's friend's, Lucelly, who Gillian knows but would certainly find surprising to see in her room at 9pm. Gillian was performing her nightly rendition of a person on the brink of needing medical attention.  We told Lucelly that this charade could go on for a while, and only if she mentioned stinky would you want to consider going in.

As luck would have it, Gillian said she had to go pee pee, and lucelly went up to see if she was wearing a diaper.  Without much introduction or explanation as to why she was there, Lucelly told Gillian to go to bed.

The next day, I apologized profusely to Gilly that we didn't tell her Lucelly was coming. She said, "I just wanted a hug and she wouldn't give me one." Poor Gigi!!!