I told the wife I had picked up 8 more out of the patch today and she asked me if I was nuts. That makes 28 I'm caring for. But I don't have to change diapers and despite a nursery of 28 little ones, I don't hear a sound...
They don't make a sound so I have to keep reminding myself to pay attention to the little ones in the nursery.
Legend of the Butterfly (Native American)
One day the Creator was resting and watching some children play in a village. As He watched them, His heart grew sad - “these children will grow old, their skin will become wrinkled, their hair will turn gray, their teeth will fall out, the young hunter’s arm will fail, the lovely young girls will grow ugly and fat, the playful puppies will become blind, mangy dogs, and those wonderful flowers - yellow and blue, red and purple - will fade. The leaves from the trees will fall and dry up. Thus, the Creator grew sadder and sadder.
The Creator took out his bag and started gatherings things: a spot of sunlight, a handful of blue from the sky, the shadow of paying children, the blackness of a beautiful girl’s hair, the yellow of the falling leaves, the green of the pine needles, the red, purple and orange of the flowers. All of these he put into his bag.
Then he walked over to the grassy spot where the children were playing. “Children, little children, this is for you.” And he gave them his bag. “Open it; there something nice inside.” The children opened the bag, and at once hundreds and hundreds of colored butterflies flew out, dancing around the children’s heads, settling on their hair, fluttering up again to sip from this or that flower. And the children, enchanted, said they had never seen anything so beautiful.
The butterflies began to sing and the children listened smiling. But then a songbird came flying, settling on the Creator’s shoulder, scolding him, saying, “It’s not right to give our songs to the new, pretty things. You told us when you made us that every bird would have his own song. And now, you’ve passed them all around. Isn’t it enough that you gave your new playthings the colors of the rainbow?” “You’re right,” said the Creator. “I made one song for each bird, and I shouldn’t have taken what belongs to you.”
So, the Creator took the songs away from the butterflies, and that’s why they are silent. “They’re beautiful even so!” he said.