My day starts with the arrival of my four-year-old granddaughter. It is barely 7:00 a.m. She prances in, kicks her sandals off her feet (leaving them where they land–in front of our refrigerator), and stops cold.
“Grandma . . . Grandma! Look at that little cute moth,” says Ava.
Cradling a cup of coffee in my hands, I nearly trip over her shoes to get a closer look. Yes, there is a moth on my counter. An unusual pink moth. But, cute?
“She is berry hungry, Grandma. I need to feed her.” Ava opens the refrigerator door. Out comes a bottle of apple juice, a can of tuna, a container of lettuce–
“Where are the fruit snacks? I need some fruit snacks,” she announces. “Please!”
Back into the refrigerator goes the bottle of apple juice. The can of tuna. And the lettuce. I hand Ava a package of fruit snacks. She demolishes the serving, offering only one “yucky green” colored one to the moth. The moth shows no interest. It doesn’t move. It may even be dead. I lean closer until I am several inches away from the insect.
“Is she eating, Grandma?”
“No, she is not eating and–” The pink moth flies toward my face, then back to the counter as if to say, “Yes, silly human, I am alive.”
“See, Grandma, I told you she was hungry,” Ava says with a smile. “I am getting a toy for her.” A minute later, Ava plunks a pair of plastic puppies on the counter. The moth continues to pose. After five, very long minutes, we watch and wait for the moth (now dubbed Beverly) to do something. Anything.
“Maybe she wants to go outside,” I tell Ava.
I coach Beverly onto my hand and then transfer her to Ava’s hand. Beverly escapes. I capture her. Ava tries again. Beverly escapes and I track her down one more time. The moth back in Ava’s custody, I remind her to keep her hands clasped until she is safely out the door.
“Okay, okay, Grandma.” She whispers, “Goodbye, Beverly. I will miss you, Beverly . . .”
I open the door. Ava opens her hands . . . Ava says, “Uh-oh . . .”
Beverly had no intention of ever leaving my home. And as for what happened to the little pink moth, well . . .
Here is the newest story that Ava dictated to me while drawing her own illustrations.
BEVERLY THE MOTH
Beverly was a little pink moth. All alone. Then Beverly found her family. Her family lived in a tree. It was a little tree. The color of yellow. A little like a yellow crayon. Then Beverly saw the baby moth. It was a beautiful baby moth. And the pink moth was the mom, Beverly.
Beverly did not know she had a baby. The baby was orange. (“Is that a good color for a moth, Grandma?”)
Then Beverly got lost in the land of toys.
Beverly was scared of the little tiny toy dogs. She wanted to go home. But then, Ava picked her up and carried her outside. And when Ava opened her hands, Beverly flew back inside the house. And now, we cannot find her.
Where is Miss Beverly Moth?
What is she doing?
Beverly Moth is in Joey, the cat’s tummy!
Joey the cat got big tummy with big legs. He eats too much food and now he has a horse in his tummy. He wants nothing else.
Written by four-year-old Ava.