Exploring According to Og the Frog

by Betty G. Birney

  “Can we at least take pictures of the castle first?” Brenda asks.

  Mr. Morales gives in. He takes pictures of me swimming in the castle moat and another one of me going down the slide. Then he rinses me off again.

  When he’s finished, Mr. Morales says, “Now clean this mess up before your mother gets home!”

  I keep track of the cleanup from the safety of my tank on the low table. Forget about roaming free. At least there’s no chance of Brenda giving me another yucky kiss when I’m behind glass!

  Willy makes many trips carrying buckets of mud back outside. Meanwhile, Brenda runs to the kitchen for more paper towels. “I’ve almost gotten rid of all the muddy fingerprints, Dad,” I hear her tell her father.

  By the time their mother gets home, I’m resting on my rock and have washed off all traces of human mouth germs. I’ve almost forgotten about the kiss.

  Mrs. Morales is not happy to hear about the mess her children made while she was gone. But she is happy to see her children working together without complaint.

  “Señor Og, I am glad you came to our house,” Mrs. Morales tells me. “I was right. You are a prince of a frog!”

  That’s nice, but now I know that being a prince isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—especially if it involves kissing! (But I’ll bet even Sir Hiram Hopwell wasn’t kissed by a princess.)

  Even so, I’m glad that each of the Morales children could see that the other had a good idea. It wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun without all the mud that Willy brought in. But it wouldn’t have looked as much like a castle without Brenda’s touches.

  * * *

  When things quiet down, I fall into a deep sleep. And for once, I don’t even dream of the swamp.

  But someone else in the house isn’t sleeping tonight. Mr. Morales works at his desk for hours after the rest of the family goes to bed. His light is on almost all night.

  The Trip to Humphreyville

  As a young tad, I dreamed of venturing out of the swamp myself. But I loved my life there, and my friends and family. I worried I would miss them if I left (and I do). Sometimes, I’d go to the very edge of the swamp and stare out at the Great Unknown. But I was too scared to take that one hop forward. I decided I wasn’t brave enough to be an explorer like Sir Hiram. But it turns out I was toadally wrong!

  * * *

  Sunday at the Morales home is as busy as a beehive in a field of spring flowers. Mrs. Morales has work to do, and so does Mr. Morales. Brenda goes off to a playdate with her friend, and Willy goes to a ball game with his uncle.

  I miss my castle, but I keep busy catching up with my exercise routine.

  On Monday morning, I’m surprised that Mr. Morales is the first person up and moving around. Especially after working late into the night.

  “I’m going to school early to put the finishing touches on my plan,” he tells his wife. “If you can get the kids to their school, I’ll take Og back to Room Twenty-six.”

  The sun isn’t even up yet as we head to Longfellow School. I feel as if I’ve been away for a long, long time and have gone far, far away.

  We get to school so early, Mr. Morales must unlock the front door!

  It is quiet in Room 26, so quiet that I can hear the clock slowly ticking away the minutes. The beginning of school is still hours away.

  Plenty of time to Float. Doze. Be. That’s when I do my best thinking.

  My mission to explore the human world has gone well. I traveled across the Land of Art and Planet Sofa. I even took a fun journey to my own castle—with a floaty moat!

  But I am still limited in what I can do . . . mainly because I can’t get down to the floor and back the way Humphrey can. And that means I can’t help my friends as much as he does.

  I pop the top of my tank and land on the tabletop. Maybe I’ll get a new idea.

  Once again, my attention is on that little U-shaped place where the blinds’ cords connect. The more I stare, the more that little U-shaped spot interests me. At first it reminded me of a chair. But now it reminds me of a swing. If I could sit there and start swinging—maybe I’d find a way to do what Humphrey does.

  But frogs can’t sit in little swings. And Humphrey only swings UP to the table. He slides DOWN, which is impossible for me.

  I feel as helpless as a turtle without a shell. (Now, that’s something I never saw and hope I never do.) I almost wish I could be a hamster instead of a frog. But I love being a frog!

  And then—BING-BANG-BOING!—it dawns on me. I AM NOT A HAMSTER! All this time, I’ve been trying to think like Humphrey. But I’m a frog, and I think like a frog . . . and that’s what makes me special.

  And what does a frog do if he’s in a difficult spot? He takes a leap! What makes us special is our amazing ability to jump. That’s what our bodies—especially our legs—are made for.

  I go to the edge of the table and look down. Now that I’m thinking like a frog, I see several places where I could leap. Right next to our table is a reading chair with a nice, soft cushion on it. And next to that is a low cabinet that has crayons and paper and other supplies in it. From there, the floor is a hop, skip and a jump away.

  It’s a challenge, but I’ve been exercising and have become an even better jumper than I was in the swamp.

  It will be a giant leap for a frog . . . but I have to know if I’m brave enough.

  “This is for you, Jack.” I concentrate hard on the cush-ion on the chair. I will have to clear the arm, but I can do it.

  Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one—I go for it! My back legs propel me through space like Neil Armstrong’s lunar module (that’s what A.J. called it). And the frog has landed . . . right in the middle of the cushion!

  A short hop to the cabinet is a no-brainer . . . as is the jump down to the ground. (Aldo does keep the floor amazingly dirt-free.)

  I am looking forward to exploring the floor when I look up at the clock. Leapin’ lizards—Mrs. Brisbane will be here any minute!

  I hop back on the cabinet and jump to the chair. I pause on the cushion, because that leap UP to the table is twice as hard as the leap down. I imagine that Jumpin’ Jack is beside me and we’re having a contest, and I land safely.

  I hear Mrs. Brisbane’s key in the door as I hop up the good old Nutri-Nibbles bag and zoom back into my tank.

  No time to get the top I popped back into place, but—BING-BANG-BOING!—I made it!

  “Good morning, Og! Look who’s here!” Mrs. Brisbane says. She hurries over to the table, carrying Humphrey’s cage.

  “Welcome back!” I tell my friend.

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” Humphrey replies. I can tell he definitely missed me as much as I missed him.

  Our teacher takes off her coat and gloves and straightens her desk before coming back over to my tank.

  “Goodness, what happened here?” she wonders aloud. She pushes the top back into place. “Did you have a bumpy ride with Mr. Morales?”

  She doesn’t have time to think about it anymore, as the big tads are coming in the door.

  I wasn’t the only one who missed Humphrey. Every single big tad comes up to his cage to tell him that.

  And I’m as hoppy as I ever was finding a cricket in a thicket when Seth tells Humphrey, “You should see the cool exercises I learned from Og while you were gone.”

  “SQUEAK!” my neighbor answers.

  Then something amazing happens. Mrs. Brisbane makes an announcement. Sure, she makes announcements each morning, but this one is different.

  “I want to tell you about a mistake I made,” she says.

  The big tads are completely silent. Even Seth doesn’t move a muscle.

  She tells the class she made a mistake in thinking Miranda didn’t lock Humphrey’s cage!

  “It appeared to be locked, but he was able to open it from the inside. He
did the same thing to me that he did to Miranda,” she explains.

  He did? And he got caught?

  “Humphrey has a new cage now, with a lock that works,” Mrs. Brisbane says. “Most important, class, I want to publicly apologize to Miranda for wrongly accusing her and for not believing what she said was true. She is an honest person, and I hope she will accept my apology.”

  As she’s talking, I watch my neighbor. He’s standing near the cage door, staring hard at Miranda’s face.

  Miranda has never looked happier.

  It takes a minute for me to figure it out. My pal Humphrey must have let Mrs. Brisbane see him out of his cage to prove Miranda’s innocence. That little hamster deserves to have a town named after him—maybe even a whole country! He’s as important in his own way as Lewis and Clark, Balboa and Neil Armstrong!

  You need to be brave to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. That’s a hero!

  * * *

  Later, I’m floating in my tank when I notice a commotion in the classroom. Mrs. Brisbane has lost her glasses, and everybody in class is running around searching for them, with no luck.

  They look as high as the top of the tall cabinet. They look as low as under their desks. But by the end of school, the glasses are still missing, and Mrs. Brisbane goes home upset.

  Aldo comes and does his usual great job of cleaning, but even he doesn’t find the glasses.

  They have completely disappeared!

  Maybe I could find them, but it’s too dark for me to try my Neil Armstrong act. I decide that I will try in the morning.

  The sun is barely shining when my neighbor wakes me up. He’s not just squeaking, he’s squeaking like I’ve never heard before—as loud a noise as any bellowing bullfrog ever made.

  I have no idea why he’s so excited, until I see that he’s staring hard at the floor way under Mrs. Brisbane’s desk. What in the swamp does he find so interesting?

  I stare at the same spot for a long time. At first, I don’t see anything . . . and then suddenly, I see something glittering in the early morning light. I can’t believe my great big eyes. Those are Mrs. Brisbane’s glasses!

  We couldn’t see them before, but now the sunlight is hitting them just right.

  “BOING-BOING-BOING-BOING!” I tell Humphrey. “Don’t worry! I’ll get them!”

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK!” he answers.

  Of course, he’s frustrated because he can’t open his new cage door.

  “I’ll get them!” I tell him again, as I start popping the top of my tank.

  Humphrey is still frantically trying to open his cage door.

  “Don’t give up! Try again!” I tell him. I’m pretty sure he could open any door if he tries.

  Humphrey pushes the door as hard as a small hamster can, but it still doesn’t open.

  “Twist it! Twist it like this!” I tell him, leaping in the air and wiggling my body so he’ll see what I’m saying. Even with all of the twisting, I’m still leaping high enough to shift the top of my tank.

  Humphrey simply stares at me.

  I keep on twisting this way and that—and tell him, “BOING-BOING-BOING-SCREEEE!”

  If he doesn’t get the point now, I don’t think he ever will!

  Now there’s a big enough space at the top of my tank. I’m ready to leap to the floor to get the glasses.

  I’m as nervous as a baby bird on its first flight. I might not be as fast as Humphrey. What if I get caught outside my tank? What if I get a new top that doesn’t pop?

  But I have to try, and I am about to take the big leap when Humphrey finally gets the message! After twisting the door latch back and forth and jiggling it up and down, he does something really smart. He gets underneath the lock, pushes up and then twists it to the right.

  The door flies open, and he tumbles out onto the table.

  “Way to go!” I cheer him on.

  Humphrey pauses to look up at the clock. Class will be starting before too long.

  I hold my breath, hoping he’ll go for it. “You can do it, Humphrey! You can do it!”

  Of course, he does! He slides down the table leg and starts to run, but Aldo has polished the floor and he slips and slides. It would almost be funny if it weren’t dangerous. I think my heart stops beating for a second, but he picks himself up and skates across the floor to the desk, gliding and pushing with one paw and then another.

  There’s not much space between the bottom of Mrs. Brisbane’s desk and the floor. I see now why the big tads and Aldo couldn’t see the glasses. But Humphrey manages to slide under the desk.

  I hold my breath again, because it seems like a long time before he reappears, but he does, this time pushing the glasses out into the open! HOP-HOP-HOORAY for Humphrey!

  Someone will surely see them now. I only hope that happens before they get stepped on!

  “Hurry! The bell’s about to ring,” I warn him. He must understand, because this time he slides on his stomach straight across the floor and manages to swing his way up to the table and get back in his cage just as the teacher enters. He made it!

  But Mrs. Brisbane doesn’t even notice the glasses. My heart sinks. Not only that: She’s walking toward them and is about to step right on them—that’s bad!

  We both start screaming at her.

  “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK! SQUEAK-SQUEAK- SQUEAK!”

  “BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING! BOING-BOING!”

  That stops her in her tracks, but she doesn’t know why we’re making so much noise.

  And then she looks down. The smile on her face is worth all the energy Humphrey and I have put into trying to tell her.

  She is puzzled about how they got out in the open. But the big tads are coming in the room, and luckily, she doesn’t think about that mystery any more.

  Humphrey, my hero, has done it again!

  I probably could have leaped to the floor and pushed the glasses out . . . but maybe not fast enough to not get caught. In a way, I’m glad I didn’t have to reveal my new secret skill. There’s plenty of time for that.

  * * *

  My neighbor sleeps for most of the day—and I don’t blame him.

  He’s sleeping when Mrs. Goldman comes in during recess—and she’s not alone. Charlie is with her.

  “Mrs. Brisbane, would it be all right for Charlie to say hello to Og?” she asks.

  “Of course,” my teacher says. “I know he’d love it!”

  They slowly approach my tank. Charlie’s eyes are fixed on me. What is that paper he is holding tightly in his hand?

  “There he is, Charlie. This is where Og lives,” Mrs. Goldman tells him.

  “Og,” Charlie says. “Og-Og-Og-Og.”

  “BOING-BOING!” I answer. “Good to see you!”

  Mrs. Goldman explains that Charlie has drawn a picture of me.

  “Thank you!” I boing.

  “Show him, Charlie,” Mrs. Brisbane says.

  I can tell that Charlie isn’t sure what to do. The room is very quiet.

  And then he holds the picture up to my tank. “Og!” he says.

  It’s such a wonderful picture. I’ve only seen my reflection in the water, but it’s a good likeness.

  “I love it!” I tell Charlie, and I mean it. “BOING-BOING!”

  “Frog. Friend,” he says.

  “YES!” I reply, and I can’t help bouncing up and down.

  “Bye!” Charlie says, and he turns to leave.

  “Wait!” I say. I wish he would stay, but I’m awfully glad he came to see me. Charlie may not be a big talker, but he sure is great at drawing.

  Humphrey hops on his wheel and squeaks cheerfully. I’m hoppy that he saw that frogs can help humans, too.

  After school, Mrs. Goldman returns alone. “I want to tell you about Charlie,” she tells Mrs. Brisbane. “Ever si
nce Og’s visit, he keeps drawing new frog pictures. And he’s such a good artist—I didn’t even know that until he met Og.”

  “Og is a special guy,” Mrs. Brisbane says.

  Who, me? My heart is singing. I hope Charlie comes to see me again soon! I’d be hoppy to hold still while he draws more pictures of me.

  * * *

  I’m still thinking about Charlie when the families begin arriving to see Humphreyville. I’m hoppy to see that Paul and his family come, too.

  So much happens, the evening is a blur. So many parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters come up to talk to me, I’m as surprised as a bat seeing sunlight.

  “So, you are Og,” a lady with a long braid down her back says. “Gail told me you inspired her to take charge of the animal hospital project. It’s just what she needed to gain more confidence.”

  That must be Gail’s mom.

  “She did a great job!” I say, and she laughs at my boings.

  Of course, Humphrey gets a lot of attention, too. After all, he’s visited most of the big tads’ homes.

  And I jump for joy when Mandy’s mom, Mrs. Payne, tells Humphrey she’s sorry she thought he made her family sick.

  “I can see what a healthy hamster you are,” she tells my neighbor. “And because of you, my husband got his new job working for the vet!”

  Mandy has a big smile on her face. “And I got my own hamster, Winky.”

  Way to go, Humphrey!

  But the highlight of the evening is when Mr. Morales drops in. I’m sorry Brenda and Willy aren’t with him, but I overhear him telling Mrs. Brisbane about my visit to his house.

  “I will be forever grateful to Og,” he says. “For the first time, my children learned to appreciate each other and work together. I don’t know how a frog made that happen, but believe me, he did.”

  My heart may burst with happiness.

  At the end of the evening, Mrs. Brisbane announces that the following day, the students will be taking their buildings from Humphreyville home.