So there is a time and a place for everything, right? At least that is what we are told. The other day I was folding laundry and I saw something green hoping out of my son’s Aggie football helmet.
“Will, get in here right now”, I shout. “What is that?” He looks at me like, maybe I forgot or something.
“A frog, mom, you know that, silly girl.”
“What is it doing in here?”
He goes on to tell me he did not bring said frog in the house, but I find that hard to believe because he and his brother have been catching frogs all summer. I tell him to not bring frogs in the house anymore. But, he still insists that he did not bring it in. I ask him who did. No answer. To most of us moms, this means, I’m guilty. He takes the frog outside and goes to his room to pout because I did not believe him. After talking to him he agrees that frogs do not belong in the house and he understood if he did bring a frog in the house he would get a punishment. Not that I don't want them to catch frogs, I do, but leave them outside. I explained that they do not like it indoors because they need to keep their skin wet to be happy healthy frogs. There are things that I think my boys should automatically know, this is not always true, case and point. Sometimes I just have to be blunt and remember that if I don’t tell them, they actually might not know that frogs do not belong in houses free to hop about.
A few days later while watching a movie I see the evidence, another frog, in the house. Now I am a little upset. We just had this talk and he explained to me that he knew he would get a punishment if he brought a frog in the house. Again, he insisted that he did not. But, there was no one else to commit the crime. I told him that lying to me was even worse than bringing the frog in the house; I might have said it in a shouting voice. He pouted again, this time for a more extended period of time, in his room, in a chair.
The next day everyone was at school and I was sitting down getting some work done on the computer. My trusty side kick, Franklin, our Yellow Lab is right under my feet, like he always is. I look down at him, and he opens his mouth. Guess what I see inside?
A frog, in his mouth, he does not kill it, he is being ever so gentle. I am shocked. Seriously. I watch the frog hop around and I watch Franklin pouncing after it. He proceeds to fling it around and rub his nose into it, and then roll on it. The poor injured frog is frantically looking for a hiding spot. I have no choice but to scoop it up and put it outside.
Later that day, I apologized to Will.
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