The Frog

Now if I stand very still, it will croak again and I will find which pipe it is hiding in. Waiting, with toes wriggling in pooled water. Squelching the waving green slime that clung to the rocks and concrete. The leaking laundry tap and the quagmire it created was bliss for frog hunting.

There it was ...brrruurrk, brrruurrk!

Flipping the blackened brass drain cover lid, I could see him now... gold and black eyes, blinking with translucent eyelids. He hunched his shouders in tighter as though he instinctively knew this tousled blonde 3 year old was about to wrench him from safe haven. Ohh this one is a big one, have to grab him tight when I get him...and he's really beautiful green too!

And there it was, determined little fist shoved straight up the drain pipe at lightning speed. The prize - my friend for the day ...and tomorrow too, if Mum did not find him in the pillowcase I was going to put him in tonight.

Mum wouldn't like that, I know...

"Bloody frogs going through the wringer when I do the washing. It is cruel Debbie and not responsible! "

There was that word again. I screwed up my brow. A big grown up word... dunno what she means .... poor frog is yucky now. All red and green and bits ...must be that thing ...dead or somethin'.

When Mum gets all quiet again, I will find another one, but this time I will remember not to let it stay in my pocket and then go in the dirty clothes basket in the bathroom. Mum won't be cross then.

So here we are ... got you frog!