The Best and Brightest

It has been the wettest summer I can remember in Southeast Texas--and I grew up here. We have a permanent bog in the backyard and all the neighbors do, too. Toward the end of July, the kid's babysitter brought them a large jar of tadpoles scooped from her puddle. Ian, or resident zoologist, was beside himself. We read our From Tadpole to Frog, and Toads and Frogs books, observed their habits, and kept adding fresh water to their habitat. It would appear that our jar had several different types of frogs, because one grew legs within two weeks and freed himself from the jar in a single bound. 'Jumpy' (as he was appropriately named) was re-captured and released into the wild.
Several nights ago, as we were making preparations for the state rep's follow up visit, the kids became convinced that they had spotted their beloved 'Jumpy' in the yard. I didn't bother to point out the statistical probability of such a reunion. I just smiled and said, "Oh, wow! And does he look well and happy?"
On a second trip out to the yard, I found them clustered around the dachshunds who were evidently toying with some small critter before the final kill. Ian called to me excitedly:
Ian: Mom, Mom! Sally and Gigi are after a frog! They're going to kill it I think! But don't worry, Mom, it is not Jumpy.
Me: Oh?
Ian: No Jumpy, is safe way on the other side of the yard!...He is hiding...He is a smart little jumper...'Cause we don't raise no dumb frogs!

That's right baby, only highly intelligent frogs found here.