Abe,
Last week we visited the Nature Center again. We decided to get a membership and you can look forward to many more visits to the otters and the fat bunny who sits lazily in a shady spot in his pen.

There is a special exhibition going on right now. In a makeshift quonset hut draped with fabric mesh, hundreds of butterflies cavort amongst a jungle of flowers. At the entrance they spray your hands with sugar water, to encourage butterflies to land on you. There were lots of monarchs, radiant orange and black. I told you about when I was a kid and your great grandmother got me started on raising monarchs. The caterpillars lived in huge pickles jars that I would refresh daily with milkweed leaves. I watched the pearlescent chrysalides impatiently, ready for the butterflies to emerge. When they did, they were bedraggled looking things, wet and crumpled. Over the course of an hour they would unfold until their wings were ten times their original size, velvet-rich and ready for flight. I’d launch them off the back step and watch them float around the backyard until they drifted over the house and out of sight.

In the butterfly tent there was a seven year old boy who sat patiently made scientifically accurate sketches of the caterpillars on display. To no one in particular he announced, “It’s amazing to see what they become.” He didn’t know he was talking about himself too. It was like a silver bullet to my heart.

Fly on,
Pa-

Abraham,
Your new look- fresh from the shower- is a perfect blend of Johnny Cash and early Clash. You’re my country-punk-rock-a-billy star. Pans, bell-like bowls and a damned loud popcorn tin are your drumset. Plastic spoons are your sticks. The whole world- quite literally- is your crowd.

You crawl forwards now and will trundle from room to room to play hide-and-go-seek. Your favorite new toy is a brightly colored flyer from a Mexican chain restuarant called Don Pablo’s. You love ice chips and frozen peaches, our family’s summer time staples. Tonight I built towers out of your board books which you delighted in tearing down.

Rock on,
Pa-

Abraham,
Our fondness for all things creeping and crawling is well known around the neighborhood. Barbara recently brought us the first cicada shell of the year. Today, as you and I tried to launch ourselves into orbit from a swinging hammock, we heard the first cicadas giving voice. Yesterday, as we wandered by Barbara’s little pond, she came out excited to share her latest treasure, a baby box turtle, no bigger than a half dollar. He had scrawny legs and a big attitude; he was not scared of us at all. He seemed intrigued by you and would only retreat into his shell when your explorations got too vigorous. We kept him for the evening, but he wasn’t impressed with our menu of blueberries, spinach, peaches and mashed ants. Tonight you and I set him free in our meager herb garden. I think that we will see him again.

Today you witnessed your first World Cup. Italy righteously defeated France in the final after an epic battle. The great Zizou lost his cool late in the game, violently and petulantly tarnishing an otherwise stellar career. You were much more sporting that he was; you hung on gamely as the match lasted over two hours, missing most of your afternoon nap in the process. You played with your friend Tao and his cat Silo. I scared you a couple of times with my outbursts as Thierry Henry danced gracefully with the ball before tamely delivering it to Italy’s goalkeeper Buffon. You were one of the estimated one billion people watching the game today. Your Mom and I watched our first World Cup in open air markets and in television sales showrooms in Thailand. Now it is another thread that helps me understand how amazing and beautfiul the world really is.

Thanks for sharing that with me.

Pa-