A moth by any other name

My youngest sees a "white butterfly" and enchanted shrieks "look mama, a butterfly"

I nod in appreciation

But no sooner does her older sister chime in

"That's not a butterfly, it's a moth"

Which is essentially true

But

Does that take away from the beauty of the creature?

Does that take away from the experience?

To some perhaps it does

But who cares really what it is called

What genome it has

What species it realms from

It is beautiful

And can be appreciated

No matter it's name

-

I don't correct the little one

Maybe I should/could

Soon enough though

She'll live in a world full or corrections

Full of the "right way" to do things

The "right way" to say things

The "right way" to behave

The brilliance of childhood to me......

is making allowances

And letting them just be sometimes

Letting the Glory of life

Shine through them

With complete abandon

Because once that is lost

It can rarely ever be found again

Fleeting perhaps

But never as it was during early childhood

Or can it?