Frogs. My children love ’em. Princesses kiss ’em, hoping for a prince. I don’t think it’s worth it. I just really don’t like them. I don’t remember ever playing with frogs. I made lots of mud pies. I even convinced my cousin to taste one. (He cried and wanted to go home after that. Yes, I do feel bad now.)
I mean, I am in awe of all God’s creation; I just don’t necessarily want to touch all of it, like my children do. They spend hours hunting for frogs and making little “toad homes” for them. I don’t see the thrill of it myself, but I’m glad they do. Serious scientific learning taking place. 😉
And lots and lots of imagination. Even when things take a turn for the worse. Yes, today we had a froggy funeral here at Riggstown Road. Apparently one of those critters got too close to the weedeater. They tried to save the poor thing, but she didn’t make it. I found out when I saw my daughter writing an epitaph on a piece of wood. I had to go see the resting place (and take a picture, of course.)
It reads: “In memery of Daysey Driver” |
I was not allowed to stay for the funeral, because that’s embarrassing, you know. I was waved away with a sheepish grin. I did just happen to linger on the porch for a bit though, long enough to hear the words, “We are gathered here today,…” I suppose those are the most ceremonial words they know. It was a short service. After all, they only knew her for one day.
Oh, for life to be that simple again. But since we can’t go back to childhood ourselves, we can do the next best thing…share theirs. I’m so thankful that I get to do that. How about you? 🙂
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Elizabeth Driver | 25th Jun 14
So sweet!