When they sent W home with his October calendar last week I saw “butterfly migration” was going to be a big theme this week. The kids have made their wings all week and today they were instructed to come to school in black or navy clothes. Parents were invited to come back to watch the butterfly migration later in the morning.

I showed up a bit early to chat with some of the other parents in the class. (never really know what to say when I hear, “OH!! You’re W___’s mom! We hear about him a lot!”) W doesn’t say much about what happens in school. As soon as I get him loaded up in his car seat he is in the moment and telling me about the city buses he sees out the window or how we are about to go under a bridge. Ho hum…

All of the parents of the kids in the 2 year old class started making soft wagers on which kids would rip off their wings. This kind of spirited debate pleased me greatly.

Right on cue we looked up to see the doors open and the butterfly migration parade began. I had to brace myself against the bleachers so that I wouldn’t fall down from the overwhelming cute. The three/four class was cute enough, sure. They were a bit indifferent to the experience and seemed more eager to make tracks to the pavilion where snacks were waiting. The two year old class, however, was SO INTO IT!

The kids were paired up and holding hands. No one ripped off their wings and everyone seemed super in love with their antennae. When W saw me he yelled, “MOMMY! I butterfly!”

Oh for fuck’s sake. His happiness for the moment was the cure for everything that could ever be wrong in my life. Ever. He’s a butterfly!


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