I was planning on ending the blogging for the day with us finishing up our ice cream and getting ready for bed. In fact, I was planning on ending the actual day with us finishing up our ice cream and getting ready for bed. But just as my eyes were starting to close, we heard some movement outside our door. But I’ll skip the suspense. We weren’t in any danger. At least not any physical danger. But my self-image took a mortal blow as I gradually came to terms over the next hour that I was no longer the person staying up late talking on the hostel porch all night, I was the person that popped my head out of the door and told them to be quiet. I don’t want to say that it would be better if they were just stealing the shoes we left on the front porch, but at least it would be emotionally cleaner.
But I didn’t spend much time processing that transition. I was exhausted, and reconciling an ego takes too much energy. That’s one of the things you learn on this side of the hostel door.
I did eventually fall asleep, which was good, because the next day was Mimi’s birthday. And she wasn’t going to waste a minute of it sleeping in. So well before most of the town was up, we set off in search of some good coffee for Aimee and I, and something covered in sugar for the kids. I was starting to tire of paying $10 for a Nutella waffle when the locals were eating regional fare for a third of that. But it wasn’t my birthday.
After breakfast, we made our way back to the hostel and took the opportunity to explore its pretty expansive grounds. It was so, so nice that the kids are now old enough (Mimi turned 8 today!) that we can just let them explore on their own a bit. It’s not that we don’t worry, but I can now go about 15 minutes before I start wondering where they are. So after about 30 minutes of not hearing any giggles (or the occasional argument) coming from the forest, I figured I should probably go lay eyes on them. I definitely had to talk myself down a bit when I saw 4 empty shoes by the side of the river. But just a bit further down we found their previous occupants. Our kids had stumbled upon a little hammock cabana that inexplicably wasn’t the first thing hostel staff showed us when we checked in. It was an idyllic thatch roof hut alongside the river with a half-dozen woven hammocks tied between the poles. Nice find, kids. But maybe next time, give us a heads up.
As much as I would have loved to spend the rest of the day there, we had a special excursion in mind for Mimi’s birthday. One of my favorite memories from when Aimee was pregnant with Mimi was visiting the Monarch butterfly sanctuary near Mexico City. That was when I really started to internalize that I’d be a dad, and I’ve associated butterflies with Mimi ever since. So when Aimee discovered that Mindo also had a butterfly sanctuary, it was an obvious choice for Mimi's birthday.
The sanctuary in Mindo was a family run operation far smaller than the one in Mexico City, but not lacking in charm. It even had a little cafe that we figured we’d have lunch in afterwards. So we hopped in a cab for the 10 minute ride to the outskirts of town.
After paying the entrance fee, we were shown a remarkably well done video about the butterfly lifecycle and how to interact with them in the sanctuary. The most important warning was that butterflies sense nutrients with their feet. So they’re often on the ground as they explore the environment around them. My kids are not known for their cautious and gentle frolicking, so I made a mental note to hold their hands when we walked in to prevent a massacre.
But after the initial excitement, they remained remarkably composed. We definitely brought some bigger kids on this trip. And of course it didn’t hurt that the kids quickly figured out if they stayed still long enough, it wouldn’t be long before a butterfly landed on their face.
Ok, now that we've got the social media version of those photos out of the way, I can tell you that they were among the hardest adorable-children-doing-precious-thing photos we’ve ever taken. First, Quinn, slathered in bug spray (malaria and Leishmaniasis are very real threats in Mindo), couldn’t get a butterfly to come within 20 feet of him for the first hour we were there. It was soul crushing to watch as he went up to a hundred butterflies, only to have 99 of them fly away. The 100th was already dead. Then as Mimi, slower moving and apparently less repelented, started to figure out how to get the massive insects to land on her, Quinn wiped the tears from his eyes and quietly sulked, “Why don’t they like me?”
It was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. I had a hard time not feeling like the worst parent ever. How could I be so cruel to torture this child by bringing him to a protected butterfly sanctuary in a tropical sky island in South America? Monster.
Once we finally got one to land on Quinn (with a little coaching from Aimee), I took so many photos my phone melted.
With Quinn now content, I thought this parenting thing would be smooth sailing for the rest of the day. Nope. By this point, it was now 12:30, and we hadn’t eaten anything since 8:30. That’s three and a half hours too many for this family. Almost to the minute from when a butterfly "landed" on Quinn's nose, Mimi just sat down in the middle of the path and started silently sobbing. I forgot what the stated reason was. But the real reason was because she was famished, and cursed with some very potent hangry genes from both of her parents. I was equally hungry, and only slightly more in control of my emotions, but I was able to get her to at least stand up. Quinn took over from there. In the way only little brothers can, he got Mimi to forget her worries and run with him through the forest. The only problem was that this “forest” was effectively a screened-in patio. So as Quinn was running full sprint through the plastic strip door that divided the preserve from the actual forest around it, he absolutely clocked the metal pole in the middle that holds the real doors closed at night.
It’s ok. You can laugh. Mimi did.
The only thing going through my mind at that point (aside from wondering how much I needed to worry about Quinn's concussion) was that we needed to leave right now. Fun’s fun.
Our original plan to eat at the cafe in the preserve was immediately aborted when I saw the outrageous prices (even by US standards) for some sad-looking food that clearly was only fed to tourists without other options. Yes, we were four of those tourists without other options, but I was in no mood to participate in a fleecing. So Aimee asked the preserve staff to call us a taxi while I took the children outside and tried to keep them from falling to pieces during the 15 minutes it would take our ride to get there. It was not easy.
But our taxi did eventually show up, for a second time. (The first time was to pick up people who called him 10 minutes earlier. That was an awkward conversation from the back seat.) Embracing our vulnerability, we asked the driver to just drop us off anywhere he recommended we eat lunch. In most other places, that would have been a recipe to get dropped off at a grossly overpriced tourist trap that gave the driver a cut of our bill (or worse). But the drivers in Mindo were delightful, so knew we’d be fine. And we were. The driver dropped us off at a place that was definitely on our preferred end of the restaurant spectrum. An exceedingly local spot with an easily missed sign and no menu to speak of. There was only “the meal” they were serving that day. Take it or leave it. We took it, of course.
We spent the rest of the afternoon swinging in the hammocks of our new favorite hang out spot on the hostel grounds. Mimi read the book she got for her birthday while I questioned every parenting decision I had made over the past 12 hours. I think we still have some time before the kids start making persistent memories, right? I’ll just show her this photo in a few years and tell her the entire day was perfect.
Happy birthday, Mimi. Thanks for the adventure.
