Memories of butterflies

On the way home from the store the other night, I ended up in a conversation with the kids about social skills, more specifically about the importance of having good social skills. I ended it by pointing out that it was something I have to work on, too.

“But you know who’s great at social skills?” I asked. “Momma. She’s like the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah,” my oldest son said, “but you’re smarter!”

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “But I┬ádo know that her memory is tons better than mine.”

“Mine too,” he said. “I can remember stuff from when I was super little. I even remember the first time we went to Medieval Times!”

“Oh yeah?” his little brother said. “I remember… the butterfly.”

There was a pause while everyone thought about that, and then I just couldn’t help myself. “A butterfly? You remember a butterfly?”

His older brother burst out laughing.

“Not just any butterfly,” the little guy said, also laughing.

“Okay, then what butterfly?”

Both boys were laughing so hard they were having trouble breathing. “It was…was… oh, never mind.”

The unfortunate part of all this is that I have no idea what butterfly he was talking about. Even worse, I don’t know if the boys were laughing at me for not knowing, or at him, for saying something so ridiculous.

Either way, it was pretty funny.

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