Frog & Toad

On our long drive home, I continually hear the request: “Can we listen to Frog and Toad”? Are you familiar with Frog and Toad? Frog and Toad are best friends, created by Arnold Lobel. They’re sweet and kind and gently funny and have a wonderful friendship. Arnold Lobel himself reads them on audiobook, and it makes you feel happy, like you’re having a big glass of milk and a warm chocolate chip cookie, just to listen to him. Of course on the way home I just want to hear music. I’d love to hear Lucy ask, “Mom, can we listen to Fleetwood Mac?” just ONCE. But…Frog and Toad it is. Lucy settles down in her carseat with Rabbie and her thumb firmly in her mouth, sort of like me putting on Darren’s basketball shorts and my favorite extra large-dark-green-but-it’s-been-washed-so-many-times-that-it’s-grey t-shirt with holes in it, emblazoned with “Arizona State University,” putting a Twizzler in my mouth, and settling down with my feet up to watch “Bridezillas.” (No one knows the origin of this t-shirt. Neither of us nor anyone we know has connections to Arizona State. It’s a mystery.)

Anyway, back to Frog and Toad. The more I analyze these stories, I think that I am like Frog and Darren is like Toad. Frog is basically a glass half full kind of guy while Toad is glass half empty. Frog is so optimistic and cheerful and always thinking something wonderful will happen, like when he hears spring is just around the corner, he actually goes around corners hoping to find it there. Plus, he’s an early riser and would like Toad to be as well. Toad says things like, “Blah. I’m down in the dumps” and “Wake me up when it’s May.” He worries that all the other animals will laugh at him in his bathing suit. He obsesses because he loses his to-do list or his button off his jacket. (Needless to say, Darren was not particularly flattered by my parallel of us as Toad and Frog. “Sure, you get to be the cheerful, fun one!”) However, Toad is intensely loyal and a fantastic friend. When Frog wants to be alone on an island so he can just sit and be thankful for Toad, Toad worries that he’s done something to offend him and packs a picnic basket with iced tea and sandwiches and canoes out to Frog to beg his pardon. He goes to extreme limits to protect Frog. When Frog is late coming over for Christmas Eve dinner, Toad imagines him lost in a ditch or being chased by a wild animal, and he rummages around finding a rope to pull him out of the ditch and a frying pan to knock all the wild animal’s teeth out. (Frog’s just late because he was wrapping Toad’s Christmas present and is obliviously unaware of the consternation he’s caused.)

Darren’s just one of those lovely worriers, but he’s so funny about it at the same time; it’s utterly endearing. (For example, Lucy’s great Constipation Plague of ’06 when he said, “I just don’t want her to die like that guy from the BeeGees!”) The other night he was talking about a little incident that had happened during her swimming class. He was recounting everything in detail, he said, “She’s so innocent. She’s just having fun at swimming. She’s not even aware that someone might not want to sit by her. It’s killing me. And do I make her aware of it? Do I let her know how people can be in this world? How will I be able to handle when someone is really mean to her and tells her they don’t want to play with her? She’s just a little girl. Should I just have kept my mouth shut?” I look at him and listen to him—loving our daughter and struggling with what I’m sure most parents do—how to protect them and also let them develop fortitude, how painful it is to watch that little person take any kind of hurt.

And I want to tell him that being like Toad is a pretty good way to be.