The Girl has been obsessing over caterpillars this spring. Since it is the first real technical spring we have been in here in our Civil War battlefield, we have seen many things we had not seen before. And that includes the black caterpillars that are very common and make webby nests in the trees. My daughter and her cousin go out in the "woods" and make homes for these creatures out of sticks, rocks, and leaves. They are entertained for hours. I, on the other hand, HATE caterpillars. See this to see why.
So, yesterday it rained and rained. The day previous, my girl had two or three caterpillars in a helmet with plenty of leaves and such for them to enjoy. The next day when it rained I noticed that she still had the helmet outside. The helmet was full of bubbly water, leaves were sort of floating around on top (I could only see it from the sliding glass door) and the girl was a bit concerned.
"Can caterpillars drown?" she asked.
"Yeah, but the ones you put in the helmet must have crawled away before the rain came, don't worry."
The boys got all interested because as is natural, whenever they hear anything about death they are dying to see.
"Shouldn't have put those bubbles in with the caterpillars," Eraser Eater chimed in.
"Yeah, just wasted your bubbles and those cost money! See if Mom buys you any again!" Yelped the Oldest in stern Mickey Mouse fashion.
The girl started to cry and whimper a bit. I said, "Did you put your bubbles in with the caterpillars?"
She nodded with bottom lip turned out.
"Why would you do such a thing?" I asked.
"I wanted to give them a bath. A bubble bath. I thought they would like it." She openly wept now.
I went and got on my sandals to see if the caterpillars escaped so she could feel better. The helmet was full of water and I could see things floating around in it. Upon seeing the death pool head on, I saw two very bloated and stiff caterpillars doing the dead man's float in the pool of the helmet. I don't know what it was, maybe morbid curiosity, but I took a leaf or a stick and took up each caterpillar and threw them across the yard. They were stiff and hard. Vile. I then dumped the helmet out on the side of the deck and clumps of leaves fell out with bubbles and water.
"Yep, you killed 'em."
"Don't say it!" She grabbed at her collar and gave me a tortured look. "But they are in animal heaven!" She pouted.
"Nope, sorry to tell you, animals and bugs do not have souls and you just robbed them of their only chance to live life."
I couldn't believe my own ears as I was saying this malarkey. I mean, it is true, but why was I rubbing it in? I hate caterpillars. Kill them all.
"Don't remind me!" She yelped helplessly. I have her a hug and told her not to do it again. Caterpillars don't need bubble baths.
The Oldest was sure to say at some point that she is a "caterpillar murderess."
The drama never stops, never ends, it just keeps coming. Maybe they shouldn't read Shakespeare.