My kids are coloring frogs. They eat them, they tell me, or they used to in their country - tadpoles and big frogs. "No baby frogs, Miss Zariakas, those are gross". Um, yeah. OK.
While I'm being serenaded with the fabulous vocal stylings of Mr. Idon'tLikeMyHairSoIWearABeanieInSummertime (he sings everything from "I wanna be with you", "Freedoooom! Freeeedom!" and "Lonely...I'm So Lonely"), Mr. Moody talks about his griflriend and how he's not in love yet. Then they go on to show me what the frog on the backpage looks like.
Basically I have three kids, belly on the kidney table, legs bent up in the air (like a frog), pretending to shoot poison from their yoohoos. (I would like to add that I have Googled it and no frog shoots anything from ...there).
All of this is going while one of them, in synch with his frog simulations, is kissing a picture of a Green Horned Frog hoping he will turn into my "baby maker, walmart man" (aka my so-called prince charming...I'll explain later) - charming.
It's amazing how a book on frogs and silly kids can make it all better.
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