This morning the kids and I were playing Hide and Seek. Usually this entails Lucy counting to ten in about 3 seconds, me running to a hiding place and staying there until Lucy cries out of fear that I’ve left the house. I find it all very funny. In the middle of this game I quickly turned the corner into my living room and discovered this on the floor:

That’s right, a frog. There was a LIVE FROG IN MY LIVING ROOM. It was jumping, it was leaping, IT WAS IN MY LIVING ROOM. I’d like to say that I handled this situation with grace, poise and the maturity of an adult, but in reality I squealed like a little girl. I was so completely horrified that this slimy, disgusting amphibian was in my house I could barely contain my panic. While I tried to compose myself Lucy started squealing in delight “MAX! LOOK! A FROG! CAN I TOUCH IT? CAN I TOUCH IT?” And while Lucy was celebrating this amazing event in our household, the cat was busy trying to kill it. I was frozen. Do I prevent the cat from killing it? Do I not let the kids touch it? How do I get it out of my house? What if I CAN’T get it out of my house? In a moment of bravery and courage I scooped the frog up, put it in a plastic container (that will be burned at a later date) and tossed the frog outside. Only THEN did I let the kids touch it, because for some reason it seemed natural for them to touch a frog OUTSIDE.