My very perfect goddaughter

I am very proud of the fact that I do not have all of my parents phobias.  High on the list is my Mother's fear of spiders, mosquitoes, cockroaches, snakes, frogs, lizards, skinks, rats, mice, guinea pigs, or anything else that is small, crawls, climbs, slithers, or scurries.  I would even hazard to say that most of these "creepy crawlies" I rather enjoy.  Consequently I have little fear of them- the balance being that I tend to scream when anything, varying from a spider climbing out of my basil to Grisha dropping an ice pack onto my foot, usually causes me to hit a high G three octaves above middle C.  On the flip side of things I am usually the first one to pick up a crawling bug or lizard that has wandered into the house.  Mosquitoes, wasps, bees, and cockroaches are the exception.  They get lambasted on sight and vacuumed up to quell any fears small people (or big people) who are afraid of them.  My very perfect goddaughter has acquired much of these same characteristics.  She can catch the swift footed anollis that live in our backyard, squash the quickest spider that gets carried in on the basil, and is usually the first to spot any baby birds that have appeared in our Swallow's nest.  She does not scream.  She does not panic.  She is very, very perfect.

A few weeks ago we went to the Houston museum and we very happily visited the butterfly exhibit.  Within those doors we saw everything from the cicadas that we hear so frequently to the butterflies that we are currently raising.  We even saw a tank full of hissing cockroaches (Tia carefully skirted the opposite side of the room in order to avoid them.)  In one tank there was a tarantula, happily perched in the top corner, lying in wait for whoever dared to enter, and shielded from view unless looking directly into the top of the tank.  I admit, I was not expecting to see her, perched so daintily, surveying the world from her webbed throne, and I did manage a gasp that sent Tio snickering.  I regained some of my dignity when I showed Eight, Seven, Four, and my goddaughter, Five, to the lofty widow who surveyed them modestly.  They had much the same reaction as me (though I didn't cry like poor Four did.)  Too late we discovered that Four does not like spiders of any variety and seeing one so close to her face that was larger than both her hands was more than we could expect her to take.

Four regained her composure a few minutes later when we sat and watched the butterfly cocoons and the birth of many, many butterflies of varying colors and shapes, size and style.  She was entranced.  A few minutes later we took all of the children out into the butterfly garden where it is hard to get more than a few inches from the elegant creatures and where frequently they daintily land upon the visitors to their world.  A rather pretty purple one was resting by a flower and Tio went to take a picture of her with Four.  I suppose up until that point she thought the butterflies were not real, like at Disneyland.  Then one dared to fly inches from her face and she screamed and broke into sobs that could not be stopped until Papa had her in his arms, protecting her from the dangerous predator, the evil, the sinister, the malicious butterfly.  Five did not entertain any signs of fear.  She walked right up to them, put her finger out, tried to poke a few into flight, and warned everyone that to poke them too much would mean that they would die.  She was most entertaining.

On our way out of the butterfly garden I walked with Five, considering how lovely she is, and how I could not ask for a more perfect goddaughter.  She's not afraid of anything, I considered as she stepped quickly, from stair step to stair step, not giving any attention to spiderwebs or ants or even the people who filled the garden.  She was lost in her own little world... and then a butterfly flew in front of her.

At the time she had been singing and without missing a beat she raised the paper butterfly guide she had in her hand and took a whack at that beautiful butterfly.  Fortunately the butterfly was not as stupid as he looks and managed to drop and dodge her well aimed hit but I was left floored.  My godbaby- my sweet innocent goddaughter- tried to knock a butterfly out of the sky.  Well, I always wanted her to be like me...  now I might have to work on that tender, loving, care thing...