Cocoons

I was typing an email to a junior high teacher Friday afternoon, hoping to tie loose ends on the very last day of school, when James came shouting and running through the patio door. 

"Mom! Remember that caterpillar? It changed! MOM!!" He tugged my sleeve in urgency. "Come see!"

Hoo-boy. Just that morning I found a striking, piano keyboard-patterned moth while I was weeding. It was so sleepy I was able to go inside, hunt for a canning jar, return and scoop it back up without a flutter. (An adolescent, perhaps?) I hoped the kids would think it was cool.

James obviously did, given the determined way he pulled me from the computer. But I knew, by his mention of the word caterpillar, that he was thinking of the little wriggler he found two weeks ago and optimistically put in a pickle jar habitat on the patio.

My heart sank.

The hurried march with James from the computer desk to the patio was one of those drawn-out, time-defying debates in my head. Should I correct his misconception? Would he be disappointed? Would I squash the magic? Could this be as damaging to his psyche as Santa Claus gone wrong? Wait, how do I know? Maybe that other caterpillar, you know, the one on the patio for two weeks, maybe it did spin a cocoon unnoticed, and maybe it did hatch the very day I found the other moth. Whoa. Could it be?

No such luck. Two jars. One moth. 

Maybe I ultimately hoped James would think I was such a cool mom to catch the moth, and we all need Cool Mom recognition, right?  So I divulged. 

I'm not sure I made the right call.

"Oh," he said. That was all. And he was off to find sticks.

But I do know that the beautiful moth will forever be a memory of this last day of school, a very fitting symbol of my children's growth this year. That, coupled with the class autograph shirt James wore home Friday, makes me think about the kinds of cocoons I want to spin this summer:

'

James has wrapped himself in a strong sense of self-worth that I love to see him possess, even as I jealously desire it myself. I never want to see this leave! It's so hard otherwise, so hard to get back. I want to help all of my children emerge this season stronger in their belief of worth, and I know, to be effective, that I need to have a firmer conviction of my own. That is my goal, with prayer as my guide.

Here's to a summer of transformation!

First and last days of school -- August 2010 and June 2011.

By the way, if any of you noticed from the top photo, Elise got quite the shiner bumping heads at recess. Here's another look. The accident was Tuesday, and this photo is from Friday: