What am I gonna do
There’s a frog in the kitchen what am I gonna do?
I’m gonna teach that frog . .
Actually what I did was scream like a girl and hide. For God sake. The poor frog crouched froggily in the hall, eyes flickering from side to side, while through the glass of the kitchen door, two furry faces pressed up against the glass. ‘Pick him up mummy’ said The Girl, helpfully, from her vantage point of half way up the stairs. I did the next best thing. I ran up the stairs and woke The Boy who was extremely grumpy. ‘There’s a FROG in the hall!’ I whimpered. ‘Yeah I know’ he mumbled, crawling stinkily out of his pit. ‘It was in the kitchen last night so I put it in the food bin.’ In the food bin?! Meanwhile the cats were scratching at the kitchen door like the floating vampire children in Salem’s Lot.
Eventually after a lot of bad language, I persuaded Frog to jump into a large bag and took him outside to the front garden. I think I convinced him that the alternative was being tortured by two nasty cats with bad breath. ‘Frogs are meant to go near water and grass!’ shouted The Boy. ‘You put him in the food bin’ said The Girl smugly. So I put Frog out the front and gave him a bowl of water. I can only hope he doesn’t get toad away.