the penguin and the butterfly
Zoe and I went to the opening of a nearby park. Silverwood park is along the shores of Silver Lake, a little ways north of us.
The celebration included rocks that you could color with markers, buckthorn rounds to decorate, spinning demonstrations, the raptor center showing a kestrel and a red-tailed hawk, good food, music, performances… Oh, and face painting. The woman who did the face painting was good, and really fast. All the mothers ahead of my got their faces painted, too, so I gave in to peer pressure.
At bedtime, I worried that Zoe would let me wash off the butterfly. She didn’t want to at first, but she accepted my explanations that her pillow would get dirty, the butterfly would end up messy, and besides, we had a lot of pictures so we could look at it any time. Her face was washed with no problem. A couple of hours later, when it came time for me to get ready for bed, I balked. I didn’t want my little penguin to go away. I had to recount those same arguments to convince myself it would be ok. I do have a lot of pictures to look at if I want to remember my penguin.