It was “Dad’s Day” at preschool, and Milo’s father was sick
with a cold. So I was recruited to fill
in.
While I was meditating that morning, it occurred to me that at
some point, they might go around the room, asking each of the Dads to say what
they did. If that happened, I decided to
say, “I tell stories”, and if asked if I’d tell one, I was determined to be
ready.
(Which is not at all appropriate, since when you’re
meditating, you are supposed to be meditating.)
The following is the story I had tentatively prepared:
Once, there was a frog.
You know what a frog is, right?
KIDS: Yeah.
And what color is a frog?
Frogs are blue, right?
KIDS: NO!!!
Oh, you’re right.
Frogs are yellow.
KIDS: NO!!!
Really? What color are
frogs?
KIDS: GREEN!!!
Oh yeah, now I
remember. And what sound does a frog
make?
A VOLUNTEER AUDIENCE MEMBER: “Ribit.”
The other kids agree, throwing in “Ribits” of their own.
That’s right. A frog
goes “Ribit.” But not this frog. Because this frog was special. Instead of going “Ribit”, this frog went…
“Boowiggee.”
AN INCREDULOUS AUDIENCE MEMBER: “Boowiggee?”
He went “Boowiggee.”
And because of that special sound, the other frogs – the frogs who could
only go “Ribit” – made him…
“King of the Frogs.”
And he remained “King of the Frogs” for a very long
time.
Until…
The other frogs finally got tired of him because, when you
think about it, that frog was only special in one way – he could go “Boowiggee.” And as unusual as that was for a frog, after
a while, it just stopped being interesting.
So the frogs took a vote, and they decided to make another frog “King of the Frogs.” There was nothing special about that
frog. But at least he didn’t go
“Boowiggee.”
Now, the frog who used
to be “King of the Frogs” but wasn’t anymore had nothing to do. Except wander around, mumbling sadly to
himself, “I used to be ‘King of the Frogs’.”
Which made the other frogs stay away from him, because who wants to hang
out with a really sad frog?
A PARTICULARLY ATTENTIVE AUDIENCE MEMBER: I don’t.
Me neither. And
that’s how things remained.
Until…
One day, a bunch of frogs came up to the old “King of the Frogs” and they said to
him, “Old ‘King of the Frogs’: We need
your help. The new ‘King of the Frogs’
has a cold, and we need you to fill in.”
I would have said “He has a frog in his throat”, but that would have
gone right over your heads. As will
this.
The old “King of the Frogs” played it very cool – (COOLLY)
“Okay, I guess so.”
But inside, he was really excited by this unexpected
opportunity. You could tell, because he cleaned
himself up real good, he combed his hair for the first time since they took
away his job, and he put on his very best “King of the Frogs” outfit. You know the outfit you wear to birthday
parties? That one.
I am telling you, that frog looked good.
That day, he handled all his chores perfectly. Which is no surprise since once he was the
full-time “King of the Frogs.”
The next day, when
the new king was better, it was over. A
little sad, I suppose. But at least he
had been “King of the Frogs” for one last time.
And as he slowly hopped away, the old frog turned back to
the crowd, he nodded goodbye, and he went…
“Boowiggee.”
As it turned out, they did not go around the room asking the
Dads to say what they did. Instead, we
used markers to decorate paper ties – larger ones for the Dads (or as Milo
called me the “Daddy-Grandpa”) and smaller ones for the kids – which had rubber
bands attached to them so we could wear them after we were finished.
We were also divided into “Dads” and “Kids” and the opposing
teams threw wadded-up balls of newspaper at each other.
(When I snatched one he had thrown at me out of the air, Milo shouted to
anyone who was interested – which turned out to be nobody – “He caught it!”)
Though I did not get to tell it, it was still fun coming up
with that story.
And it was an inexpressible blast being “King for a Day.”
3 comments:
Boowiggee!
wg
I like the frog in the throat routine. Sha-boom, sha-boom.
In an era when self-esteem is the most important thing in our education system, I'm sure they don't want to "hurt" any child's self-esteem if his father was seen to do something less interesting than the other fathers
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