Much earlier this afternoon, Sam said, “My frog has been in the same place for hours.”
I think you know enough about me by now to know what’s coming.
Later, after Sam had wandered off, I shook the tank a little to make sure that Corpsey McCroakerton wasn’t faking.
We’re waiting until the children are asleep to dispose of this guy. I think the trauma of losing a second frog might be too much for them. Earlier today, when the frog (who, in his defense, had absorbed most of that tail by this morning) seemed to be struggling, we made sure that there was a smidge of air space between the top of the water and the bottom of the platform. Alex and I felt very confident about our ability to adapt to ensure the frogpole’s survival.
“Sometimes it’s an advantage to evolve second,” Alex said.
I think I’ll amend that to, “Sometimes it’s an advantage to not be the unlucky son of a tadpole that gets sent to Stimeyland.”
Godspeed, little froggie. You will be missed.