Caterpillars and Unitards

A very exciting day in the Broadbent household today. Our annual adopt-a-caterpillar-and-stuff-milkweed-in-a-glass-jar-until-the-caterpillar-metamorphs-or-we-give-up-because-we-figure-they-are-dead, was a blazing success. Whilst my mother was here, (she hates to be called "mother") she loaded down the four-wheeler with the Chitlins and in true country fashion, trespassed onto most of our neighbors property to extract prime young Monarch caterpillars, and all the milk weed they could possibly ever eat.

They were able to harvest 5, although in the transfer from containers, Cool Whip, to a glass pitcher, one escaped, most likely to his death, on the junk counter, among the piles of expired coupons and other important junk. A moment of silence, please.

The little 'pillars were all in different stages of their plumping when we got them, so two had morphed into butterflies last weekend. I was afraid that we had lost the other two, into a perpetual cocoon, but when we got home from Gram's today, they were black as could be. In just a few short hours they emerged wet and dewy from their cocoons and started to slowly move their wings. We moved them out to the patio and watched them dry off in the breeze. I watched them and was jealous of their upcoming trip to Mexico. Of course, since they are just going there to die, I guess I am content to hang in Oakley for a bit.

After naps today, Em got all 'tarded up to go to her first Acrobat lesson. Since she loves her little leotards so much, and is always twirling around, I decided to send her with her little friends, Brinley and Halle, to acrobat class. Dave thinks it probably won't yield any fantastic results, since Emma at two years old, already has three inches and twenty pounds on Shawn Johnson, but I reminded him, it is "Acrobatics," so that doesn't exclude a career in the circus, which is really where all the money, travel and prestige come into play.

When she got home, we got the full report. She had a great time, and only cried one time, when she missed her Mom, awwww. She twirled around and told her Bros' about performing headstands and somersaults, and then disappeared for a bit. When she made it back into the living room, she had changed from her 'tard, into Dawson's football shirt and executed a perfect diving tackle onto Dawson's back. It didn't take long for Dyl to get in on the action, and as Dave and I watched Emma expertly toss and pin her brothers, we thought about maybe adding a ballet class to her schedule. Yikes.