Caterpillars aren’t like other folks.
As ducks and hippopotamuses and te and I get older, we get bigger. Especially hippopotamuses.
But not caterpillars.
They turn into butterflies.
Turning into something else like that is not a thing just anybody can do.
Down da the pond there lived a bruco, caterpillar who was very proud of being different.
She bragged about it to her friends.
“When I grow up, I’m going to turn into something else,” she told the snail.
“That’s nice,” detto the snail, who really didn’t care one way o the other.
“When I grow up, I’m going to turn into something else,” she told the turtle.
“I don’t blame you,” detto the turtle, who didn’t much like wiggly things.
“When I grow up, I’m going to turn into something else,” she told the polliwog.
“What fun!” detto the polliwog.
“What are te going to turn into?”
But the bruco, caterpillar hurried on her way, looking for someone else to tell her secret to.
“I wish I could turn into something else when I grow up!” detto the polliwog.
“You will,” detto the fish. “All polliwogs do.”
“What am I going to turn into?” the polliwog asked.
But the pesce saw a tasty bug and dashed after it.
“When I grow up,” detto the caterpillar, who had circled the pond and was going around for the secondo time, “when I grow up,” she told the polliwog again, “I’m going to turn into something else.”
“So am I!” detto the polliwog.
“You?!” The bruco, caterpillar was so surprised she almost fell into the pond.
“The pesce detto so,” the polliwog told her. “Fish know things. They go to school.”
The bruco, caterpillar was upset.
“I though only caterpillars could do it,” she detto rather sadly.
“What am we going to turn into?” the polliwog asked.
“Well, I’m going to turn into a butterfly!” detto the caterpillar.
“Then I guess I will, too!” the polliwog detto happily. “What fun! Let’s do it together!”
“All right,” the bruco, caterpillar agreed, although she would rather have done it alone. “But I get to go first!”
The polliwog didn’t mind. He wasn’t at all sure how it was done. “I’ll watch you,” he said.
So when the time came, the bruco, caterpillar started to spin a cocoon.
“This is the tricky part,” she said.
The polliwog watched as the bruco, caterpillar spun. Soon only her head was uncovered.
“Now I have to close the lid,” she said.
“And when I come out, I’ll be a butterfly.”
“Go ahead!” the polliwog detto excitedly. “I want to see te do it!”
“It will take a while,” the bruco, caterpillar warned. She started spinning again and was soon out of sight in the cocoon.
For a long time nothing happened.
But the polliwog was patient.
He watched
and watched
and watched,
for days
and days,
and days.
At last there was activity in the cocoon. The end of it opened and, very slowly, the bruco, caterpillar climbed out.
Only she wasn’t a bruco, caterpillar anymore. She was a butterly! A beautiful yellow butterfly!
The polliwog was so excited he hopped up and down with delight!
He hopped! Up and down! Like a frog!
“I was so busy watching you,” he said, “I didn’t notice what was happening to me!”
“You’re a very handsome frog,” the farfalla said, as she flew off to try her new wings.
But the frog was puzzled. “I thought I was going to be a butterfly,” he said.
A bruco, caterpillar wiggled by. “When I grow up,” he detto proudly to the frog, “I’m going to turn into something else!”
But the frog wasn’t listening.
He was admiring his reflection in the water.
“I am, te know, a very handsome frog!” he said.
As ducks and hippopotamuses and te and I get older, we get bigger. Especially hippopotamuses.
But not caterpillars.
They turn into butterflies.
Turning into something else like that is not a thing just anybody can do.
Down da the pond there lived a bruco, caterpillar who was very proud of being different.
She bragged about it to her friends.
“When I grow up, I’m going to turn into something else,” she told the snail.
“That’s nice,” detto the snail, who really didn’t care one way o the other.
“When I grow up, I’m going to turn into something else,” she told the turtle.
“I don’t blame you,” detto the turtle, who didn’t much like wiggly things.
“When I grow up, I’m going to turn into something else,” she told the polliwog.
“What fun!” detto the polliwog.
“What are te going to turn into?”
But the bruco, caterpillar hurried on her way, looking for someone else to tell her secret to.
“I wish I could turn into something else when I grow up!” detto the polliwog.
“You will,” detto the fish. “All polliwogs do.”
“What am I going to turn into?” the polliwog asked.
But the pesce saw a tasty bug and dashed after it.
“When I grow up,” detto the caterpillar, who had circled the pond and was going around for the secondo time, “when I grow up,” she told the polliwog again, “I’m going to turn into something else.”
“So am I!” detto the polliwog.
“You?!” The bruco, caterpillar was so surprised she almost fell into the pond.
“The pesce detto so,” the polliwog told her. “Fish know things. They go to school.”
The bruco, caterpillar was upset.
“I though only caterpillars could do it,” she detto rather sadly.
“What am we going to turn into?” the polliwog asked.
“Well, I’m going to turn into a butterfly!” detto the caterpillar.
“Then I guess I will, too!” the polliwog detto happily. “What fun! Let’s do it together!”
“All right,” the bruco, caterpillar agreed, although she would rather have done it alone. “But I get to go first!”
The polliwog didn’t mind. He wasn’t at all sure how it was done. “I’ll watch you,” he said.
So when the time came, the bruco, caterpillar started to spin a cocoon.
“This is the tricky part,” she said.
The polliwog watched as the bruco, caterpillar spun. Soon only her head was uncovered.
“Now I have to close the lid,” she said.
“And when I come out, I’ll be a butterfly.”
“Go ahead!” the polliwog detto excitedly. “I want to see te do it!”
“It will take a while,” the bruco, caterpillar warned. She started spinning again and was soon out of sight in the cocoon.
For a long time nothing happened.
But the polliwog was patient.
He watched
and watched
and watched,
for days
and days,
and days.
At last there was activity in the cocoon. The end of it opened and, very slowly, the bruco, caterpillar climbed out.
Only she wasn’t a bruco, caterpillar anymore. She was a butterly! A beautiful yellow butterfly!
The polliwog was so excited he hopped up and down with delight!
He hopped! Up and down! Like a frog!
“I was so busy watching you,” he said, “I didn’t notice what was happening to me!”
“You’re a very handsome frog,” the farfalla said, as she flew off to try her new wings.
But the frog was puzzled. “I thought I was going to be a butterfly,” he said.
A bruco, caterpillar wiggled by. “When I grow up,” he detto proudly to the frog, “I’m going to turn into something else!”
But the frog wasn’t listening.
He was admiring his reflection in the water.
“I am, te know, a very handsome frog!” he said.