I know that I promised not to talk about the Frog Plague anymore.
And for those of you who sent me this link. I just have one thing to say.
THAT WAS JUST WRONG!!!!!
And so, on that note, please indulge me as the saga continues.
Monday night, following a delightful dinner, the family decided that we would all head to Wal•Mart to do the grocery shopping together. Because, as a homeschooling family, with a stay-at-home mom and work-at-home dad, we don’t spend nearly enough time together.
Two carts, three exhausted children, and one parent nearing a nervous breakdown later, we exited Wal•Mart and were greeted by a torrential downpour. Luckily, our umbrellas were safely tucked inside the van.
Two miles away.
Fiddledaddy sprinted out to get the van and picked the rest of us up as we waited by the claw-like machine that takes all of your quarters and gives you a big fat claw full of air in return.
Not that I parted with any hard earned quarters. Because that would have been foolish. Just sayin’.
We loaded the van with groceries, children, and my hair. Rain is no friend to my hair, people. It took on a zip code all it’s own.
Upon arriving back at the House of Fiddle, I jumped out of the van first (holding fast to two dozen eggs) to unlock the front door, and pave the way for the unloading of the cargo. It crossed my mind that the torrential rain usually brings with it a greater number of FROGS. So, as I arrived on the doorstep I cautiously looked up. Because that’s where they usually lurk. Waiting to drop on me. When I least expect it.
No frogs. I got out my key to unlock the door and saw this.
The first thing I did, after backing up, was to pull out my camera. Because I figured that no one would really believe me without documentation. I then called forth the rest of the family, who have never taken my frog fear seriously.
Fiddledaddy takes the camera from me to get a closer angle, Emme crouches and prepares to
murder catch her next amphibious “pet,” and Cailey stands about 10 feet back and taunts the frog to the left, that is now quickly scaling the wall to avoid certain death.
I stand WAY far back, because I’m just brave like that.
Cailey utters a small “boo” and giggles. Braver, she steps closer, and louder, “Boo.” More giggles. And finally, with all of her might, she leans forward and hollers “BOO!”
The frog had enough.
I watched, in slow motion, as the frog pushed off of the top of the door frame. With legs splayed, and beady eyes narrowed, he made an arc about 10 feet in the air, and landed right smack dab on Cailey.
She screamed loud enough to wake the not living.
And then burst into huge heaving screaming sobs, as she jumped up and down. At this point, the frog having had his fill of fun, jumped down off of her back, and hopped away. Chuckling to himself.
And being the good mother that I am, I ran over to comfort my 6 year old tutu wearing princess.
I burst into laughter. The kind of laughter that causes tears to run down your face while you experience a Depends moment.
But the important thing is that I DID NOT BREAK A SINGLE EGG.
We managed to get her into the house and calmed down. After an hour or two.
She has since vowed never to enter or exit the front door ever again.
I’m with her on that.
We’ll be tunneling out through the back from now on. Like gophers. At least now I’ll have someone to share my little Frog Phobia.
And maybe we’ll get a group rate for the therapy we so obviously are in great need of.