Flutterby

Butterflies.

Pretty, fluttering, fragile creatures. Well, i don't know much about them but they remind me of my wonderful principal and of course, my school.

It was a fresh, exciting morning. We would be having our annual cross country run cum face painting competition. Adrenaline and creativity. The students were all excited. One woke up in the wee hours of the morning just to paint her own face. She came to school at 6am wearing a painted mask of a butterfly. It flew into class for a touch up. The rest helped each other out. I paint yours, you paint mine. I paint the teacher's face, teacher please don't paint mine. (Cause you can't draw for nuts...)

A smart painter would know that for the darker skinned, we need to use light colours. And vice-versa. The only dark skinned there, was the teacher. (Almost)Smelly and dark, i had to paint a white butterfly on her face. I tried my best. I managed a rough sketch on her cheek.

My principal didn't want her face painted. Instead, she had lovely butterfly clips in her hair. It was dangling nicely just below her ears. Sitting there like it was sucking the nectar from her hair. (She had short hair by the way) So there she stood facing the whole school. Looking silly with her pretty butterfly clips hanging on to their dear lives. I bet she thought it was hip. (no pun intended. She had big hips by the way...) She gave her speech. Everytime she moved her head, i thought a butterfly was going to drop. But no... It was tightly clipped to her hair. Their wings fluttered as she moved. Imagine her spinning around with those things in her hair and those 3/4 skirts that she wears and that tummy and that big hips and and and...

What a pretty sight it would be.