There's something about summer, especially when you are the mama of a small boy, that equates to dirt, adventures and scraped knees. Oh, and toads. If you can find a toad or two to throw into that mix, then you're golden. Golden.
WM mowed lawn Sunday. In the process, he came across our resident toad. Mr. Hopper.
We've found him on the driveway at night, arriving home after dark. He's been discovered hiding by the edge of the hose reel in the side yard. Most recently, he was in the long-ish grass at the back of the house. WAS. Then, WM pointed him out to Channing & ten minutes of toad loving began.
Channing fondly refers to Mr. Hopper either by name or as Little Buddy. It's usually the latter. For someone who is nearly four, he's actually very gentle with his friend. He cups him carefully in his hands. He usually cups him gently in his hands. This time, Channing was wearing a shirt with a pocket which meant Mr. Hopper carefully got tucked inside if only for the briefest of moments.
For the sake of the toad, I did limit the play time to about ten minutes. Then, he was safely returned to his hiding hole by the edge of the concrete slab in the back yard with promises to play again. Soon.