One excited little boy

There are many times I wish my eyeballs were video cameras. There are also many times I wish I could photograph instances at will. Driving The Boy home from school today was one of those times.

This afternoon, as I was fighting at work with some reports I needed to run, Cute Husband texted me with a surprise:

We have butterflies!

This is exciting. Since receiving the little yellow box two weeks ago, we’ve watched the butterfly larvae scoot around and eat some weird brownish gunk (which was pretty amazing; I had no idea caterpillars have 6 arms!) and turn into little chrysalises. Cute Husband moved them from their little plastic cup into the butterfly environment, and we’ve checked on the chrysalises every day.

Yesterday, The Boy noticed a change in some of the chrysalises and pointed it out to Cute Husband. Apparently, when the butterfly is almost ready to hatch (for lack of a better word), the chrysalis darkens. (We’re getting our money’s worth from this school.) Sure enough, when I looked this morning, it looked like four of the five chrysalises were noticeably darker than they were when they first formed.

I told Cute Husband that I would let The Boy talk to him once I picked him up from school; I’d let The Boy hear the news directly from him.

Cute Husband was on speakerphone when The Boy called.

“Guess what we have now!” Cute Husband said.

“What?”

“We have butterflies!”

The Boy opened his mouth in a kind of exhilarated awe and didn’t say anything, so Cute Husband, who couldn’t see him, didn’t quite witness the level of excitement that resulted from this news. The Boy was super excited, and if I wasn’t driving (and if he wasn’t talking on my phone), I would have been ready to take a picture of his reaction.

The news I delivered as we drove home was equally well-received.

“Guess what you’re going to do a week from Saturday?” I said.

“I can’t guess. Can’t you give me a hint?”

“Well, we have to go back to that place we went last Friday to make sure you have what you need for it.”

The Boy furrowed his brow. “We have to go to the market?” he asked.

I smiled. “I guess we can go to the market again if you want, but wouldn’t you rather go to Guitar Center?”

His entire face lit up. “Yeah! And can we buy my guitar this time?”

“Of course!”

“Okay, but I’m gonna want to test it out first to make sure it works good.”

Anyway, once I told him about finding him a guitar instructor, he was beside himself with excitement (again). What I didn’t tell him, though, is that this first class will be an evaluation; the instructor will work with him for a half hour and determine whether he feels The Boy is ready for lessons or if we ought to wait. George’s Music doesn’t typically teach kids younger than 6 (some of the other schools I’ve found start at age 7), but the store manager understands that kids are certainly all different and my might-as-well-be-five-year-old may well be more ready for guitar lessons than an older kid.

So while I’m sure The Boy will prove his mettle, I may do well to keep looking for instructors just in case this particular instructor disagrees.

In the meantime, The Boy has informed me that he plans to play guitar for the next 12 years so that he’s really good at it, and then he’ll switch to drums.

“And then you’ll have to find me a drums instructor, okay, Mom?”

Well, by then he’ll probably know a number of musicians and music instructors, but I didn’t want to point that out to him.

“Okay, honey,” I replied.

Sometimes it’s just easier.

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