Tis the season...

... for these cute fuzzy things. Or something almost like it. And Elsa has a decided passion for them. Which means she wants to share them with everyone special to her. Which includes me. UGH! Don't get me wrong - I love how fuzzy they look, from a distance and better yet on a branch - not crawling up my 3 year olds bare arm. And definitely not in my wooden recipe box, no matter how much Elsa's pet needs a house.

Clearly I am getting old because there was a time when caterpillars, in our family, settled for margarine tubs with holes punched in the tops for their homes. Whereas this generation is moving into condos, err, aquariums on the front step. Or if they are lucky enough to fall into the hands of a great real estate agent, like Elsa, they get their own house; aka the aforementioned wooden recipe box.

But with that house comes a shower, ala the front garden hose... so when I heard what sounded like my hair dryer wafting through the dining room window that is just above the hose; imagine my relief to learn it was simply a neighbor blowing dust off the side walk, and not Elsa playing hair dresser to her sopping wet caterpillar.

Later I was treated to a Barbie doll head floating past the corner of my eyes, decorated with a flower and stuck not on a body, but rather a stick... dripping wet. A funeral procession for the caterpillar perhaps? I don't think they do well in the shower.

Yes... tis the season and the burning question is how many caterpillars will survive it and Elsa's passion for them???