The iBaby-practically-iToddler and I decided over the weekend to go for a walk to the local park. She greatly enjoyed rolling in the dirt, picking up trash and eating leaves and grass. She even schmoozed a couple of random guys hanging out talking nearby. One was a cyclist who looked strikingly like John Malkovich. The other had been sitting there a while and was rounding out a six-pack of beer. She loved them both.
When it became clear that bedtime was among us, we packed it all up and heading back toward the house. But as we left, we saw a cocoon hanging from a tree on a thin, but remarkably strong strand (of silk? I don't know.). I stopped and watched the little guy inside it struggle to get out for a while. The munchkin was entirely disinterested.
As I watched, the drunk guy came over to see what I was taking pictures of and we sat there together for a while, watching. He talked about the nature of change and of how hard the little bugger was working and how maybe it had timed it just right so it would hit the ground by nightfall.
And then he got quiet, stared at the wiggling thing a little longer and said, "What's that white thing? Is that his chest hair?"