Papillon de nuit and the petite souris

‘Maman, Maman que le papillon de nuit mangent?’
The urgency of the question, coupled with some vigorous shoulder shaking, roused me from my deep slumber. In my dormant haze I was almost certain I had understood the meaning of the words, but I was profoundly confused as to why they were being spoken.
At that moment all I could muster in response was a dull
‘Uh?’.
‘MUMMY, what do moths eat?’
Small one was sitting bolt upright in bed next to me, eyes wide and awaiting a more coherent response.
‘Errm, I think they eat the same as butterflies, fruit and nectar and….stuff’.
‘Are you sure?’
‘I think so.’
‘Oh, OK. I was having a dream about moths and I couldn’t dream what they were eating.’
‘So now you can.’
‘Yes’
‘Super,. Night then’
‘Night’
‘Moo, do you dream in French?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Oh. All the time?’
‘Mostly.’
‘OK.’
‘Mummy I’m very tired now, could you please stop talking so I can finish my dream?’
I opened my mouth to begin my indignant riposte that is was she who had wakened me, but as the church bells struck 3 I realised that not only was it far to late to begin one of those kind of arguments, but also it would also be entirely wasted as I could already hear a gentle snore from my right

It had been a strange day.
Moo had spent most of the previous night coughing and spluttering at my side having fallen victim to the latest bout of ‘cold’ doing the rounds in school. I dropped her off at school with advice to Maitress Marion that Moo was a little on the fatigued side, and if she needed to be sent home, then just to call me. I rushed to the pharmacy to restock the medicine drawer and pick up some essential supplies in case we needed to ‘bed in’ for a couple of day. I was a little surprised not to receive a call, but when I went to pick up Moo for lunch she was looking very pale and had a little bit of a temperature. Maitress and I discussed the matter and it was concluded that if, after lunch, she was still a bit ‘peaky’ it would be fine for Moo to stay at home. At home, Moo went upstairs for a little play while I prepared lunch. 5 minutes later I called her, but receiving no response I went to get her, only to find her sprawled on my bed in deep, deep sleep. Having removed her coat and shoes I placed a duvet on top of her and left her to it.
About an hour and a half later she appeared downstairs looking slightly less pale, but still very hot. More medicine was administered and although a late lunch was refused, she did manage to eat a couple of biscuits. We spent a pleasant afternoon making Easter cards then talking to ‘flat daddy’ in Macau, and then grandma and grandpa in America. I love the internet. It was during the conversation with grandma about yet another thing I couldn’t find, that Moo came out with the statement the ‘probably mummy needed brain surgery as she suffers from short term memory loss’. I don’t know where she gets that idea from, now where did I put those keys….She may have a point.
After that it was time for a visit from one of our small neighbours, (he goes to the ‘big school’ in our village and comes here sometimes till his mum has finished work), and an hours rigorous play-time. By the time he left she was exhausted and barely managed a light tea of some soup and bread. We snuggled in on the sofa with our blankets and watched Dumbo, which has to be one of the strangest Disney films ever made.
When the end credits rolled I carried a very sleep Moo back up to bed, and although it was still very early I decided, in anticipation of another wakeful night, to join her. I am very happy to say that aside form the aforementioned ‘moth musings’ sleep was uninterrupted and long. Moo woke with a start this morning and with all thoughts of coughs and colds forgotten, demanded I take her to school. Not used to such enthusiasm I checked her temperature and found it to be normal. The reason for her desire to be up and out this morning was soon revealed as she proudly showed of two wobbly front teeth and she couldn’t wait to inform her classmates that the petite souris would soon be making a return visit.
I must ensure ‘he’ has the required change in ‘his’ purse for the next week or so.

After a little research I am pleased to report that (most) moths do indeed eat the same as butterflies.
A Bientot

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Author: hillywillyworld

Living as an 'ex-pat' in Thailand with my daughter Moo and sometimes my Hubby too (when he is not bringing home the bacon from Macau). Sometimes it's funny. Sometimes it's tough. Sometimes it's confusing. Most of the time it's just...random. Join me as I struggle and giggle my way through this thing called life.

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