So as I was going to get my children from school yesterday afternoon, I opened the door in my garage and found a large stuffed frog laying against it.
This stuffed frog does not belong to my children; I am familiar with their stuffed animals, especially the large ones.
It was set against the door where the postal carrier tends to leave packages, so I checked it for shipping labels in case someone had mailed us a frog without a box; there were none.
Which leaves me a little mystery, gentle reader: From whence came this frog?
As I am prone to wild speculation, I can only create increasingly outlandish scenarios in my head:
- It is a warning from the frogs that we should not open our pool in the summer, as too many of their kind jump into the pool and die when they cannot get out.
- It is a MacGuffin in some plot, laden with drugs or microfilm.
- It is a gift from a stalker who has, for some reason, nicknamed me “Froggy.” Perhaps because I once looked like this:
But that would have to be someone who knew me way back when.
- It blew into the back yard of our next door neighbor, and she or her daughter assumed it belonged to my boys and “returned” it.
To be honest, I’m not sure what I’ll do with it. We’re not bringing it into the house–as one of the unmentioned possibilities is that it is a Trojan frog filled with frogs hoping to invade my home or, slightly more likely, full of bugs of some sort that we don’t want in. I haven’t talked to my newest neighbors of a couple of months yet, and I haven’t talked to most of my other neighbors for years, if at all. If you think I’m going to use it as an excuse to introduce or re-introduce myself to them, well, think to yourselves how you would react to a strange man knocking on your door to ask if this was your stuffed frog. Yeah, I think that, except probably with more 911 calls and gunfire.
And, to be even more honest, I’m posting about it to keep myself on the amused side of the amused/seriously weirded out line.