(beware of confetti, this is post #100.)

Have I really never blogged about this? I’m sure I have. And, probably, if I haven’t blogged about it, you’ve heard about it. Still… for posterity’s sake, I’ve just got to blog it.

Late this past Spring, the boys, the wagon, and I went for a walk. We took nothing but a can of La Croix. We stopped at a rummage sale (which had a table full of toothbrush/toothpaste samples; what the heck?), walked to Crumpet’s house, stopped at the park, then headed home. There is a monster hill to conquer between the park and our house, and I generally make the boys walk it, because pulling them in the wagon is nearly impossible. Out of energy, we reached the top of the hill panting for breath. Suddenly:

“DAMMICK!”

It was Dimples. Did he say what I thought he said?

me: “What did you say?”

him: “Dammick.” (sigh) “We forgot the water-soda at the wummage sale!” (exasperation)

It was all I could do to hold in my laughter. I’m surprised the blood vessels in my head remained intact.

me: “Where did you hear that word from?”

him (regarding me with a typical child-looking-at-ignorant-idiot-parent face):
“It’s what you say when you forget something.”

me (squeaking): “Oh. Right.”

Unfortunately (because it’s freaking hillarious), he hasn’t said it since.

I just now felt the “end of summer” feeling. That mania-nostalgia-regret-panic feeling that is an inevitable part of August’s closing. I’m thinking that the hormones of a swollen, moody 28- (or is it 29-) week pregnant lunatic are not helping here. Neither, I suppose, are the endless cloudy, rainy, stormy skies.

I felt it because I was about to type something like, it has been all about the frogs this summer, in a past-tense, reflective way. I’m going to try to ignore this feeling and blog. OK? So stop bringing it up. It’s still August.

Each visit to the park this summer–whether it was for T-ball, rubber ball, a playdate, a picnic, or any other event–quickly became (obsessively), for the kids, centered on looking for and/or catching frogs.

This week, during one of the rare mornings that didn’t see rain, this crew…
…went a-frog catching.

(I forgot my camera, but NeeNee & Poppy’s point-and-shoot came to the rescue.)

“I see a frog!” Just never seems to get old.Nor does the excitement of the pursuit.

Nor, come to think of it, does the fighting over who gets to hold the frog.

The water was quite a bit deeper than usual. Still, Dimples could not have cared any less …even when he did a belly flop into the mucky, leech-infested stuff. Poppy actually seemed to enjoy falling in. Regardless, he may be the best frog catcher ever.

Baby cared less for the frogs than for the fact that he was in the nAWsty creek as deep as his brother and grandfather were.And after undoubtedly providing a few little helpless frogs with near-death experiences……he became bored and moved on to the playground. Geez, he’s cute.Dimples has shown a greater focus and longer attention span than any male child, anywhere, ever, with this frog thing. Or maybe it’s just a boy thing.

…Then again, maybe not. That’s right, them’s no boy’s hands.All hail the Frog Queen: (BTW, she learned that this one was, indeed, not a prince.)

The third frog (below) was caught with her left hand, while balancing the first two in her right. “I am so not a girly girl,” she boasted. Yeah, except for when she’s watching High School Musical 2 for the 5th time, or talking about her 3 boyfriends, or strutting her own skimpy fashion designs… but I digress. Ahem.
Oh, the drama that went into this cute image. Doesn’t it just scream sweet little loving siblings? I assure you, it is deceptive.

I think that one is smiling. See? Frog Whisperers. Not frog -frightening, -stalking, -torturing, -dehydrating, -distressing little punks.