Bubbles & Frog

It's been sweltering hot and meltingly mucky this past week in Kentucky. Since Stephen isn't back in school yet, it's been quite a challenge entertaining the boys. Usually, they tear up the house in the morning... All the Legos, action figures, play food, trains, cars, Rescue Bots, and dress up clothes come out. Every book is pulled off every shelf. Every puzzle has been turned over. Every couch pillow pulled off. Every curtain panel in a bunch. And then, maybe around 10:00 or so, mommy begins to get a little neurotic.  So, it's off to the library or a store, but only AFTER we clean up--- or "queed up" as Rockam likes to say. 

Well, there are only so many mornings one can drag three wee ones to the library (and for better or worse, we are well known there)-- and heaven forbid another trip to the store would result in another toy to add to the chaos and glut of toys we already have. So, some mornings we need other diversions. 

Once, when Stephen was really keen on volcanoes and rock collecting, I took them to a gravel parking lot to steal--er--collect some rocks. 

Another morning, we made presents-- Stephen insisted on making a Father's Day present. He said if we made a present for daddy, then it would be Father's Day. (He made a volcano)

Then, there are other times when the solution to the steamy dog days hops right up to you. 

I was changing Rockam one morning when I had that mildly unsettling feeling I was being watched. Usually, this is my bug radar indicating a large ugly spider is lurking all sinister somewhere. This time my eyes fell on a dark little lump on the floor. "I thought it was a fuzz," Stephen says when he retells the story. "But it was a frog!" 

Now, granted, we often have frogs, lizards, seahorses, centipedes, scorpions and other creepies--- all of the genus Plasticus--- scattered throughout the house as part of the aforementioned daily chaos. But this frog was quivering as Steve and I crouched over to inspect. "Get your bug box!" I told him. The frog jumped. Stephen squealed and jumped onto the bed, throwing his blanket over his head. Guess who gets to be the Designated Frog Catcher? Same person who inexplicably became the Designated Spider Squisher somewhere around the time her firstborn acquired language skills. 

You might recall this is not the first time we've discovered a tiny Gray Tree Frog where it shouldn't be. When Rockam was a baby, one rode home nestled on the soft fuzz of his newborn head. 

I'm not entirely sure how this one hitched a ride into our house, but my guess is some similar scenario. :) 

He was pet for a day. And then after the poor frog was shaken and flipped and slapped against the sides of the little bug box all day, I told Stephen to let him go. 

(Just imagine that I took a picture of joe and Steve as they freed our petrified frog by a big tree in the back yard.)

School starts Wednesday... I'm afraid ill be at a loss how to engage Rockam without the help of my activity ring leader.