As a kid, I used to wonder where, with the intrusion of civilization on Mother Earth, do the lizards, snakes, and frogs that we occasionally found came from. Where do they find someplace quiet and uneventful to grow up without interference. To children, much of life's little mysteries seemed so unsolvable, but the longer you live on this earth, the more knowledge is made known. For example, as an adult I now know that frogs come out of the sink. What? You say you didn't know that? Well, neither did I but after a summer of fully grown tree frogs (about the same size as the end of your thumb), crawling up through the drain of the sink in my bathroom, I am now a true believer.
I know when we're going to have a frog eruption because during the previous night we can hear the ominous croaking reverberating throughout the plumbing. At first my kids were somewhat surprised by the sound but now they smile and place bets on how big the forthcoming frog will be. Always the next morning there is a frog on the window sill, or in the toilet, or on the third shelf in the medicine cabinet next to the lady's deodorant. But the most adventurous frogs peek out of the drain and leap at the unsuspecting tooth brusher when the water is turned on.
Sometimes two frogs at a time make their arduous journey through our sewer pipes to make way into our bathroom. There are two sinks in the bathroom but they only pop up in my wife's - this I tell her may be a sign. She won't touch the frogs even though I assure her that, "it's toads that give warts; frogs just eat bugs." She said she doesn't like bugs either. So when a frog emerges, one of the kids are called in for "Frog Removal Duty". The little green tike is snatched up in eager hands, carried outside, and placed ceremoniously in the grass in the front yard (farthest from my sink). Now I suspect those frogs love such royal treatment because either they return to croak another day, or my drain opens into a frog alternative universe with a never-ending supply of the precocious amphibians
