A few minutes ago, as my husband was leaving for work, I kissed him with coffee breath and leftover-from-yesterday mascara under my eyes, all of us still in pajamas. Or pajamas and rainboots for some. The kids started shouting about there being a frog in the house.
Did you know I am terrified of two things? Snakes and frogs, in that order. Thank God it wasn't a snake inside, or I would have already been packing to move. For real.
The commotion started and kids were shouting about the frog - 'Get it! Catch it!' I quickly ran out to my neighbor who was about to take her girlies to school, and proclaimed our trama. The true friend that she is, she turned off the car, unbuckled the girlies and they came in the house like a S.W.A.T. team. (Truth be told, it isn't all that unusual for me to come to her in reptile and amphibian emergencies, because her girls are crazy people, and often remove unwanted sorts from our backyard.)
She lifted the couch while the girls removed the bomb. I mean frog. It was huge and disgusting. At least half and inch in width I am told. Probably an inch long. Huge! I waited safely on the porch, far removed. The girls took it down to its new home in the retention pond down the street to live out the rest of its (hopefully short) life.
So the problem was mostly solved, other than we totally ruined the homeschool reputation. Or confirmed it. Either way... I was still pajamed with mascara in all the wrong places, Keston was toting her bunny around, and the house was less than in order. Umm, way less.
Why couldn't we have had the frog episode any other day this week with us around the homeschool table together, showered and dressed, laundry going and kitchen clean? Why? Shoot.
Do you think it all counts as science this morning? In the least, it is good motivation. I am off to shower...