Adding to the class menagerie

As usual, our family remains committed to causing highly educated and supremely dedicated professionals seriously doubt their career of choice.
It’s a gift really.
Victim. Our current victim-du-jour is our daughter’s lovely first-grade teacher.
This is a genuinely happy and optimistic person. I’ve been surprised at how much I like her, since typically people like that can really start to annoy you.
Despite her obvious fitness for teaching, we have been embroiled in a campaign to send her screaming from the educational profession since shortly after our daughter decided to enter farming. Caterpillar farming that is.
Or is that caterpillar husbandry? I’m not sure, really.
What I do know is that every last clear glass bowl or baking dish in our home has been carted off to the classroom as newly renovated cocoon housing.
I fancy myself as somewhat of a habitat for caterpillar-humanity project director. Not to mention that it’s a wonderful excuse not to mix or bake anything. I’d love to prepare something homemade, really I would, but my cookware has all been pressed into higher service.
Perhaps I’ll bake in the spring – when the butterflies have hatched.
Nonetheless, what I do know is that this poor woman made the mistake of letting on to the students – including my impressionable 6-year-old