Tonight after our evening walk (namely, to calm me down, which worked well these walks we do each day during the Twight Zone times in which we are living), we arrived home and I noticed a frog on one of the glass panels of our garage door. These are the windows on the top portion of the door that let the light in. And on one of these panels there was a wee beige frog. Little buddy.
To show J, who was on her Razor scooter still wearing flip flops, I placed my hand lightly over the little guy to carefully (carefully) pick him up, when he jumped and landed and J’s Razor wheel apparently caught his leg and him.
“Wait, don’t move!” I screamed, but it was too late. The frog was injured. I rushed to him on the ground and picked him up. His leg was hurt and maybe more of him. I was crushed. Why did I mess with him at all? I cried. I should have just let him be on the glass and pointed him out to J! but truthfully, I wanted to share him with her, to show her there was nothing to be afraid of.
My good intentions turned into a disaster, as good intentions can often do, to our utter surprise. He was frozen in my hand, probably in shock, and I called myself an idiot, a fool, stupid, all the words one should not use in front of a child. I was devastated.
I immediately started to cry. I couldn’t believe what I had done. This was all my fault 100%. This frog was hanging out on the glass in the night probably waiting to snap up a bug and thenI came around, tried to handle him, and now look what happened. His leg was limp. I was a wreck, feeling selfish and stupid.
J blamed herself since it was her Razor and I said, “No, no, no! This was my fault, entirely all my fault, not yours, but it was an accident.”
Holding him in the palm of my hand, I tried to do whatever I could to help. He didn’t move but he was still alive. I told J to go inside, turn on the porch light, and wait for me. I bent down and placed him on a bed of leaves I created and watched. He didn’t move.
For the rest of the night, I went out to check on him, every 30 minutes or so. He moved a bit, but that was it. I brought him a milk carton cap filled with water and moved him back farther in the bushes for protection.
Back inside I looked up “injured frogs” on the internet. It said leave the frog alone and let it heal on its own. It said frogs with injured legs can survive. Frogs eat worms, mosquitoes, and crickets.
Tomorrow, I told myself, I will check on him. If he is still hanging in there, I will move him to a more secluded area in the garden and will go to the pet store to get him some worms or look for a mosquito.
I hope he survives the night. I feel like a complete idiot. Everything was fine with him until I came along. I did this.
I can’t stop crying.
—SBM
Single Busy Mommy 