I laid in bed Saturday night and thought about my daughter's two day mission to save the caterpillars.  Friday and Saturday afternoons her dad, as well as myself, helped her locate caterpillars at risk in the driveway or the road and "Save them," as Ellie would say repeatedly. 

I thought about how sweet it was that she wanted them all safely on the tree...about how compassionate she is, and how I am raising yet another animal lover.

Then I thought of all the tiny caterpillars that were saved...and how they would eat my big oak tree and nest all over my property.

Finally my thoughts wandered to the ones that were moving away from the Great Oak as we scrambled to rescue them.  How frustrating that must be to be so small...to have traveled half a day to go only a hundred feet and then have some crazy ass family scoop you up on a leaf and place you right back to where you had started from. 

    I pictured one of the fat ones letting out a heavy sigh, turning it's elongated body around...heading back down the tree and starting it's mission all over again.  Then I pictured him getting only a few feet and saying in his tiny caterpillar voice, "screw it."