A few weeks ago, my first granddaughter made her debut in the world. She is a few months early, so she is spending quality time in an incubator at our local hospital!
It’s been an exciting time of fellowship with my oldest son and his wife while they camp out with us to be closer to the baby.
My daughter-in-law is a vegan, which means that my menu has changed somewhat since she moved in. I am in the process of developing a full month of yummy vegan dinner recipes that I can put on repeat. I’ll post them next week in case you’re interested.
Having my daughter-in-law here has given me a few opportunities for storytelling—one of my favorite pastimes! A couple of nights ago, I started reminiscing about an episode with a toad.
It seems like just a few years ago that I had three little explorers in my home and live critters were a constant concern. I remember one summer morning getting ready for our homeschool day at breakfast in the kitchen with two of the three.
Wondering where my middle child was, he suddenly appeared in the doorway, hands outstretched and sliding to a stop on the concrete floor. With eyebrows raised high, he carefully and loudly announced in his little boy lisp, “Nate! There’s a TOAD under your bed!”
We all jumped down from our pub table chairs and raced to the boys’ shared bedroom. Sure enough! There was a substantial toad sitting calmly under Nate’s bed.
Nate snatched it up, and we followed him in a parade to the back porch. There he crouched down and released it.
We watched expectantly for the thing to hop off; instead, it turned and hopped on top of Nate’s foot, seemingly content to stay. I turned on my skeptical mom-look and said in a low voice, “Naaaate.”
He automatically replied with giggles, “It’s not my pet, Mom!”
This first home in Ridgeland where I raised my kiddos was bordered by a ravine that is a frog heaven. Our first ever inspection of the yard showed hundreds of tiny frogs frolicking in the grass. It won the kids’ instant approval.
In fact, even our first night was memorable because of the frogs. As Hubby and I lay down that first night in our new home, we realized the impact of living amongst so many frogs and toads. The next day, we invested in a noisemaker to drown out the symphony.
Even the noisemaker was ineffective sometimes. On a post-rainstorm night, a toad discovered how to magnify his lovely deep song by croaking into the downspout next to our bedroom windows. I was beginning to picture Frankie in Meet the Robinsons. After about twenty minutes of the intense serenade, Hubby snatched his robe, slid his feet into shoes, and stomped outside. He was back within moments, readjusting the sheets over his body.
I asked, “Whatdya do?”
He replied, “Picked it up and threw it as far as I could towards the ravine.”
