Once baby Keilana crawled out on our porch for about five seconds, which turned out to be just enough time for her to put something bulgy in her cheek. Since she loved food and had a bad habit of continuing to eat even if she was choking, I had trained her early to spit out anything in her mouth if I put my hand under her chin. So, I did and she did. And it was the half-chewed remains of a snail. Gross factor off the charts. All of this is background for the story explaining why I feel a little ambivalent over tadpoles. In the summer of 1991, we were taking a dip in the natural pool created b
y damming the local creek, when Keilana once again looked up at me with a full cheek. When asked what she had in her mouth, she opened her teeth just enough for me to see a grayish-green blob, and I thought to myself if it was one of those giant bullfrog tadpoles, especially one with legs starting to sprout, I would never stop throwing up. Fortunately, when I put my hand to her chin, a big river rock plopped out of her mouth and I didn’t have to begin the never-ending cycle of barfing. So, that’s good, but I still feel a little queasy around tadpoles. In Barbara Ann Porte’s Tale of a Tadpole, Francine has a pet tadpole that actually grows up to be a…toad. Good thing nobody ate him.http://www.amazon.com/Tale-Tadpole-Barbara-Ann-Porte/dp/0531330494
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