Over the weekend, my dad opened his Saturday paper to a surprise. No, not a jaw jumping headline, but a tiny tree frog, who apparently found the news "ribbeting." My father did the only logical thing he could think of. He snapped his picture, posted it to Facebook, then gently returned his little friend to the semi permanent puddle by the roadside he assumed to be the little guy's humble "a-toad."
My father thought little of this interaction, and had more or less forgotten about his amphibifriend until last night, when he got home and checked the mail, only to find this note:
For those of you who struggle with our mail carrier's chicken scratch, it reads "Remove Frog, mail will be held."Apparently, Kermit, as I have decided to name him, had hopped into the mailbox for some shade, only to frighten our postman. The man's been a real grump here recently. This is the second time in as many weeks that he's had a complaint and held our mail. Perhaps he should find a frog to kiss and see if it turns into a princess.
Afraid that another run in with our postman would cause Kermit to croak, my dad gave him a new home in my mom's flower garden, where he has happily made friends with some much more loving characters. All he has to say on the matter is, "it's not easy being green."