When he was very small, my son was deathly afraid of moths. But he lumped them in with butterflies and the title "Buttafwy." Phonetic translation.
Anyway, my mother and I had taken him somewhere where we had purchased a pinwheel for him. He was happily making it spin, in his car seat, as we drove down a country road to my sister's place. Mom got increasingly testy and finally demanded that I pull over so she could have a smoke. I was being "brutal," her favorite adjective. We pulled over. I stopped the car. She opened the passenger-side door and left it open so she'd have enough light to torch the cig. In came a moth. A honker! And landed on Mom's back as she was steadying the flame of the lighter.
"Buttafwy!!! Buttafwy on Ganma!!!" came the shrieks from the back seat as he began to beat her soundly with the pinwheel to save her from the hideous creature. Finally, moth was out of the car, Mom was out for her smoke, car door was closed and I was calming the baby.
Done with the smoke, Mom came around to the other side of the car to put away her lighter, opened the door, LEFT it open while rummaging for her purse, and guess who flew back into the car? Mothzilla, who promptly landed on Mom's back. Terror and hysteria! This time, since Ganma was in very close range, he really gave that moth a sound thrashing. This did not sit well with Ganma.
Eventually, order was restored and we were on our way. My mother was not gracious about being interrupted and began a long, long narrative. Each time my mind wandered, I thought about the kid, the moth, the pinwheel, the whole bit, and starting giggling all over again. By the time we reached my sister's place, she wasn't speaking to me OR to the baby.
What would YOU do if this flew in YOUR window??
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