Left in charge of the butterflies
My sister and her crew went on holiday and left me with their chrysalises. Every year they get some caterpillars, the caterpillars hunker down, the butterflies magically arrive.
The first year, when he was little, my nephew was convinced they were going to become raccoons. He kept saying raccoons. We were all like, "Cocoons. Cocoons." Which isn't even true, butterflies don't make cocoons, they form chrysalises.
So I was desperately hoping the butterflies didn't sprout before the kids got back. They did.
Which meant I found myself in charge of five painted lady butterflies and thirty-nine billion microbes. It's too much. I had to feed them a sugar mixture on tissue and pipetted onto a flower, and also my niece said I had to give them oranges. High maintenance!
Having breakfast
It was really interesting. I feel very educated to a primary school level about butterflies now. Three of them came out within ten minutes of each other at about five in the afternoon. Then another bout at half ten in the evening, which doesn't seem smart from a survival point of view.
Also, did you know, when they are fresh, they exude this red stuff. The booklet says it's not blood. But when it looks exactly like blood it's no less terrifying.
Luckily the kids got back from holiday the day after the butterflies hatched, and came over to my house this morning to release them. Which was extremely cute. Off you pop, little butterflies.
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