Froggy

"There's a frog on my leg."

Bryan looked at me funny, like I'd said something in code. We were doing normal, boring, domestic Saturday stuff. Picking up and dropping off some product orders. Getting dinner at a fast-food restaurant where the kids could burn some energy.

We were in the Jeep, driving down a back road near my house when I felt a splat on my leg. I'd never felt a splat before, especially not while riding in the Jeep, and my first reaction was a loud gasp. I looked down, and peering up at me was a tiny, adorable little tree frog.

"There's a frog on my leg," I repeated. "Look." I showed him.

"Wow, there really is a frog on your leg." The moment was a little weird, both of us calmly considering our visitor. Looking back, I don't think one Holy, crap! or What the hell? was uttered. Just calm speculation. It could be that both of us were groggy from a bad allergy day. I'd had zero motivation to do anything.

I slowly reached down and scooped the little thing in my hands and peered at him. "He's skinny." He hopped to my other hand, and I was filled with a pang reminiscent of my days working at pet shops. Maternal instinct kicking in. Save the world one underfed animal at a time. The reason why I had a dog, bearded dragon, sun conure, canary, and 21 bettas in an efficiency apartment.

And you think I'm joking, don't you?

Well, if you really know me, you don't.

"Wanna keep him?" As soon as it was out of my mouth, I instantly regretted it. Luckily, at the same time, Bryan's eyes scrunched up in a familiar Are you out of your cotton-pickin' mind? expression. We pulled over to put him in a nice water-filled ditch where he would find plenty of mosquitoes to brunch on, and he immediately hopped from me to Bryan, then under the console of the Jeep. We couldn't find him after that. I hope he's okay. Especially since in the short two or three minutes we had him, Izzy had named him Anden. Lately I'm beginning to suspect my four-year-old would bring in some extra money to the household selling names to science fiction/fantasy writers. Her bear is Aura. She named her herself on her fourth birthday. Bryan was so stunned by the very decisive choice that he almost asked her how she'd like to spell it. Haha.

Later we were at an ATM, and I gave Bryan my PIN. As I rattled it off, I heard Izzy in the back seat. Rattling off our phone number. I sat in shock for a minute, then asked her to repeat it. Bryan asked if I had taught her that.

No.

The only thing I can think of is that when I call clients, I always leave our phone number in the message. That's the only place I can imagine she picked it up.

Kids are sponges. I wonder what else she's picked up that I don't know about. I'm already having to learn not to say freakin' this or freakin' that, because she once told me, "Mom, you're freakin' annoying me." Go on, go ahead and laugh. It's okay. Since it sounded so bad coming out of her sweet mouth, I knew I had to stop saying it, because it probably sounded just as bad coming out of mine. Even though it isn't a curse. But is a curse really just a word, or the intent behind it?

It makes me recall a time when I was fighting with my sister when we were kids. Okay, that doesn't narrow it down much. But this particular time, I knew I was forbidden to use the word "hell." So I frankly told my sister to go to Hades. She didn't know what it was, so when I told her, she ran to Mom, crying that I'd told her to go to Hades. Now... I wasn't technically cursing, but my intent sure was the same. Luckily we don't fight anymore. Things just sorta cleared up once I moved out, and now we're great friends. I haven't told her to go to Hades in years.

:)

Eli injured himself again. I just wish he'd heal from one before getting another. The poor kid looks like he's constantly getting in fights and losing. His bruise from several weeks ago hasn't even completely healed, and he fell and hit his eyebrow on the fireplace. Cracked it open. Looks just lovely. Everywhere I go, I get Awwww, poor babys from most people, but sympathetic looks and Look, Mark, he looks like you! from other Moms of boys. At least I know I'm not alone. I used to feel horrible about how aggressive he was, until we were at the gym the other day and I watched another little boy, the same age as Eli, calmly walk up and shove a little girl down. The mother, of course, was mortified, but I felt such a relief. Mine isn't the only one. I'm not the only mother trying to deal with this. Thank God for that.

I'm thinking of hitting the sack. Got a busy day tomorrow. Busy whole week, in fact. If you're free for lunch, call me. I'm up for some socializing. :)