Kissing Frogs

One of my favorite things about living now is the digital camera.  Who would have thought I would have so much fun with one ?  I can tell tiny tales with photographs  ’till the cows come home.  My grandma Clara used to say that.

My granddaughter Clara is a princess through and through.  Every princess knows that you have to kiss some frogs along the way because you never know which one is really the prince.  I told her that she was a little young to be worrying about that but she said she was just practicing.  As I snapped away I thought of a little poem.  My little poem became the pages of a little book which tells the tale of a princess-gone-kissy and a frog who was just . . . well, a frog.  But in true Princess Clara fashion she liked him anyway.

Won’t it be fun for Clara to find this little book tucked away somewhere . . . forgotten in the passage of time.  She can read it to her little Clara or whatever her name is. The poem goes like this and the photographs follow:

Kissing Frogs



If you kiss a frog, he’ll think he’s a dog.

Don’t touch his tongue, unless he is young.

If his tongue has goo, don’t get it on you.

If he has warts, don’t share your shorts.

If you can’t decide . . . then leave him outside !

{with his friends}

Now isn’t that more fun that just sticking pictures in a photo album?  I also want Princess Clara to remember my literary side.  {tee-hee }

“rib-bit rib-bit”

-a frog-

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