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Life is not about getting to the destination, life is what happens to you on the way there. 

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Big Mean Daddy

Middlechild has a soft spot for critters. I suspect she's going to work with them when she gets older. We have hosted many tadpoles, lizards, toads and snails in washed out pickle jars. Lately she has taken to "rescuing" said critters from certain demise. I tell her she's only prolonging the inevitable, but I still let her do it. She comes up with crazy names - like the pair of snails she called Speedy and Jennifer.

The latest critter was a brown tree frog with a broken leg. She called him Big Mean Daddy. I have no idea why. I gave her some fishfood pellets for him and she nursed him and nursed him - would even catch bugs for him and drop them in the jar. If I heard "EEEW EEEW Gross!" I knew she was dropping an insect into Big Mean Daddy's jar.

She finally released him last night to fend for himself in the front garden. DH and I encouraged this because we could see that BMD was failing and would soon (pardon the pun) croak. This way, every brown tree frog seen in the front yard would be dubbed Big Mean Daddy, and she would never know that - while valiant - her ministrations were not enough to save the frog with the broken leg. I doubt that anything would save that frog - least of all the smothering love from middlechild.

I'm going to keep letting her nurse critters - but if she brings a spider in to make better - she will be disowned.

2 Comments:

Blogger Cate said...

My oldest grandson and your middle child would be the best of friends. Even though he belongs to the "He-man Women Haters' Club", she'd win him over for sure.

12/02/2005 07:24:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

ty cate
love,
middle child i am 11 1/2

2/04/2007 03:12:00 AM  

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