In April, my partner in crime, whom I shall call Tad, visited a creek and collected three pollywogs, which I shall refer to as Tadpoles.
Tad put Tadpoles in a tank with water and rocks. Every day he fed them organique lettuce. The Tadpoles, which we named Glad, Fad, and Baby Rad, nibbled on the lettuce like it was an Alice Waters specialty.
Over time, they grew. When they grew legs, Tad fed them live crickets, a nutritional dietary supplement.
I liked watching them kick and hop and climb on the tank sides and tank top. You see, I love to swim and excel in the breaststroke, which uses the frog kick. I was on the lookout for frog kick tips. I kept them in mind when I swam, though I had trouble crawling up the walls of the pool area and onto the ceiling.
As Glad, Fad, and Baby Rad grew, they lost their tails. Instead of spending their time swimming, they crawled into the rock grotto. Their life was on the rocks.
All too soon, it was time to let them go. We took them to their rightful home. We were a tad sad to say goodbye to our springy offspring. Baby Rad went first, leaping into the creek. He was still a baby and needed to perfect his swimming. The other two were reluctant to leave us.
“Hop to it!” I said.
They had just enough time to make it to the hop.