Okay: schmaltz alert: little kid stuff ahead in this posting...

Our referents of late have been little-kid literature. The words of Beatrix Potter and Russell and Lillian Hoban are hummed and recited like a mantra. M is fascinated by all things crawling, hopping and flying, and frogs have been quite especially targeted.

This spring, I got out the kneeboots and shovels and dug a fishpond outside the dining room window. Tom wasn't completely on board at first, but thankfully, the pond is HIS baby, including stocking it and putting in the pump, etc. It is really quite pleasant, and of course its hill of dirt is now a great little perennial garden.

What has been surprising for us is the arrival of the frogs. "Build it and they will come," though their little asses had to hop a very very long way to find the little pond. The number varies but you could expect to see 15-20 frogs in the pond. And they are GROWING, too.


We had one visitor, whom we'll call Mr. Jackson*, who stayed for a few days. Too much girlhandling, though, and he went away. He was the only one who made noise.



*The Tale of Mrs. Tittlemouse, by Beatrix Potter
A Bargain for Frances, by Lillian and Russell Hoban