Driving up Sellman Road in Dickerson, you pass Poole’s Farm. And on Poole’s Farm is a small wetland (as in, puddle) that is filled every spring with the welcome song of Spring Peepers. The sweet beckoning of one wee boy-frog to one wee girl-frog…times a bijillion.
Critter and Varmint and I were driving home one evening, via Sellman Road, and I lowered the windows and slowed down so we could enjoy the reptilian concert.
Critter: “Why do they do that?”
Me: “It’s their mating call.”
Critter: “What’s a mating call?”
Me: “It’s the boy-frogs saying ‘Hubba! Hubba!’ to the girl-frogs.”
Varmint: “What is ‘Hubba! Hubba!’?”
Me, not liking the direction of this conversation: “It’s like the boy-frog is saying, ‘Hey! I want to kiss you!’ to the girl-frog.”
Critter, laughing because he does like the direction of this conversation: “Peepers don’t kiss!”
Me: “Sure they do.”
Varmint, matter-of-factly : “Uh, no, Mom, they don’t.”
Me: “Yep. They sure do.”
Varmint: “Mom, I’m pretty darn sure Peepers don’t kiss.”
Me: “Prove it.”
It’s good to be the Queen.