A few weeks ago I took Zoey to the Butterfly Gardens for her birthday. I imagined that she and I would stroll the climate-controlled paths amongst the blooming flowers and lush foliage hand in hand marveling at all the beautiful butterflies. I imagined that Zoey would jump up and down in excitement and wonder. I even dared to dream that my newly minted 3 year-old daughter would whisper to me, “You are the best mom in the whole world! I will never whine again and I will always do what you tell me to do and I’ll never stop napping and I’ll even learn to wipe my own butt . . . All because you took me HERE!” Yes, we would spend hours of butterfly bliss together!
But instead, I spent $24 for 10 minutes of . . . not bliss. That’s right, we only lasted 10 minutes. Zoey was so afraid of the butterflies that she whined and cried and cringed and repeatedly yelled, “DON’T LET THEM GET ME, MOMMY!” The first two minutes of our visit are captured below. Shortly after these shots were taken, Zoey made a, uh, forceful and violent break for the exit. Unfortunately I happened to be standing between her and the exit. My darling daughter put her head down, squared her shoulders, and charged. I ended up sprawled on the pavement flat on my face while Zoey repeatedly pushed her weight against a door that pulled open. I checked to make sure I wasn’t bleeding and then, well, we got the heck out of there. You know the saying: quit while you’re ahead . . . or emotionally and physically damaged. Frickin’ butterflies.