My mother in law is scared of frogs and until today I thought she was balmy. Not anymore.
Me? I’m a mite cautious when it comes to those loathsome critters, mice. That is to say I stand on chairs and squeal like a thirteen year old at a Justin Bieber concert if I think I spot one.
In this house it is my wife who does the mouse hunting. But I bake, so we call it even.
Today at work I tottled off to the loo to take care of some paperwork. I was well prepared, having freed up a good wedge of time and taken in my book. Unfortunately, things didn’t quite go to plan.
Starting a fresh chapter of Guns, Germs & Steel, sudden movement to my right caught my attention. Fearing it was a mouse I managed a manoeuvre which saw my ankles up about chest level – not easy for a man who even on a good day can’t touch his shins.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a mouse. It was a frog. And an odd frog at that – a brownie grey number with a triangular head.
I used my foot to move it along towards the door and prepared to settle back into my book.
No such luck.
The little blighter turned around and looked at me. I used my foot again. Gently, I assure you.
When it turned around and confronted me again I didn’t know what to think – whether it had a death wish, was blind or had spent too long out of water and its brain was going to pot.
But this time, as I stretched out to nudge it away, it fair dinkum attacked me. It jumped and landed on my shoe!
I flicked it off in much the same way the Crocodile Hunter wouldn’t.
It landed with a splat and turned to face me again. This was no brain-drained critter. This was a hunter, a beast of the swamp protecting its territory.
And this time when it leapt at me I could see what it was trying to do – it was trying to get into my pants.
At this point in the story, when I was explaining it to Tracey, she assured me that no one, neither man, woman or frog, would ever in their right minds be trying to get into my pants. She’s reassuring like that.
So the toilet stop ended with me sitting on the loo with my pants pulled up to my knees, fending off the attack frog with my shoes while I tried to complete my transaction and retreat to the relative safety of the office.
In one lot of evasive manoeuvres I even pulled a muscle in my shoulder.
Next time my mother in law comes over I’m going to apologize for ever doubting her because I’m starting to think Kermit wasn’t a realistic interpretation of these amphibians.
I’m telling you people, in my experience, frogs are freaking terrifying.
Bruce started his blog because friends and family kept wanting to know how he managed to feed and clothe such a large family while still having fun and being able to afford holidays and beer. He had no idea, but thought if he started writing things down some sort of pattern might emerge. When not at work Bruce enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies. He’s recently taken up the cycling challenge with a view to surviving long enough to see all his kids out the door so he can finally sleep in.