Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Yesterday, I began telling how my older sister and I loved to catch and play with itty-bitty frogs when we were little girls. After we’d catch them in the wastebasket we’d snatched from inside the house, here’s what would happen.

Let me tell you. There are few things more satisfying than hearing the click-clomp-thump of little frogs as they hop against the inside of a wastebasket.

My sister and I were always careful to take good care of the frogs, never hurting them and being sure to return them to where we’d originally gotten them. But while we had them in our charge, there was something magical about scooping up the little frogs and feeling them tickle the palms of our hands as we’d giggle and laugh, trying our hardest to hold onto them and not let them escape due to how much their little clingy feet tickled us.

One of the other things we enjoyed doing with the frogs was to pet their backs—ever so gently—with one of our fingers. Why? Well, for some reason, this tended to put the frogs in some sort of trance. My sister and I laughed as the frogs went all loosey-goosey on us, their legs spaying this way and that, them appearing to fall asleep as we rubbed them. But they weren’t—asleep that is. As soon as we stopped stroking their backs, the little frogs would literally spring back to life, hopping this way and that, making that delightful click-clomp-thump sound that got my sister and I to laughing.

Our frog play always took place during late spring on through summer, bringing smiles and giggles to two little girls who strove to find simple things in life with which to amuse themselves.