We're PRAYING that this woman doesn't have pets.

We live in an apartment on the second floor, so we have a little balcony. Hopeless romantic that I am, I often put the mop out there to dry. As I was doing this one night, I noticed a moth on the wall right next to the sliding glass door.

It was a beautiful little moth, with very intricate wing patterns and some spots of a delicate grayish-blue. Still, it was a moth, so I tried to shoo it out. But it started to tremble when I tried to move it. Insects are cold-blooded, so maybe it really was cold and seeking a warm spot, I don't know. Anyway, I decided it wasn't hurting anything, so why not let it stay inside for the night.

The more I thought about it, the more it just seemed like such a Christmas-in-July moment. My eight-year-old son would wake up in the morning, come out and see the beautiful moth, and I'd explain how I felt sorry for it because it was shivering, and he'd learn to compassionate even completely unintelligent animals like insects. Just so sweet, right?

The next morning being a busy one, I completely forgot the moth. We spent most of the day out doing stuff. We came back in the late afternoon, and I was in the back of the house folding some laundry when my son came running in. "There's a moth on the wall!" he exclaimed. I explained what had happened.

"He's so pretty! Can I set him free?" he asked eagerly.

"Sure," I said, smiling to myself as he ran back down the hall. Oh, this was darling. My son would remember this lovely day all his life -- the day he watched a beautiful little moth fly away against the bright blue sky. Maybe he'd even become an entomologist. I thought that any minute, the Nobel people would be calling about my winning the prize for all-around fabulous mommyhood.

Not one minute later, my son came to the back of the house again. This time his steps were dragging rather than leaping. As he entered the room, I could see that his mouth was set in a grim line.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I set him free," he said flatly.

"And?"

"And a bird ate him."

Extra bonus Real Bad Mommy points: I burst out laughing.