There’s something about watching your children pressed against glass, eyes wide, that resets your perspective.

We spent Sunday at Melbourne Zoo — not my usual terrain of code and virtual economies, but the girls wanted butterflies. Who argues with butterflies?

The butterfly house delivered. Hundreds of them, drifting between tropical plants like living confetti. The girls stood still (a rare feat) and waited for wings to land on shoulders, fingers, hair. Each landing was a small miracle. Each departure, a lesson in impermanence.

I found myself thinking about systems — because I always do. The zoo is its own economy: energy in (visitors, funding), energy out (conservation, education, wonder). The butterflies are ambassadors for a larger story about habitat loss and climate fragility. But mostly, they’re just beautiful.

What struck me:

The patience of small children when something magical is at stake How quickly we forget the simplicity of wonder That butterflies live for days to weeks, yet make the most of every wingbeat

We walked through the rest of the zoo — saw the usual suspects, heard the usual complaints about tired feet — but the butterflies stayed with us. The girls talked about them all the way home.

Some days you build systems. Some days you stand in a humid room and watch your daughters discover beauty.

Today was the second kind. ✦