It’s funny that when you do something bad, it makes you feel sick, like a pit in the middle of your stomach. At least, that’s what happens to me. I remember one incident when I did something bad; it wasn’t intentional, but it happened. And I felt sick to my stomach.
& Mr. Green Jeans
But first, let me give you some background. It’s not particularly relevant, but it’s something I want to tell you about. When I was preschooler, there were only a few children’s shows on TV. The two that I regularly watched were Romper Room with its Magic Mirror, and Captain Kangaroo with friends like Mr. Green Jeans. I remember, one time I was angry, pouting and complaining that Captain Kangaroo had not come on during its normal early morning timeslot. Instead, there was a boring news show. After several loooong minutes of my grumpy behavior, I remember being put in my place, perhaps by my parents, perhaps by my older sister. Whoever admonished me said something that filled me with shame that I had been whining about my show. The news show was covering John F. Kennedy’s assassination. While I didn’t understand exactly what was happening, I realized that it was much bigger than anything happening in my household. I didn’t say anything else about missing my show. I felt bad about my selfish behavior. But I’m not here to talk about that.
When I was in Junior High School (that’s called Middle School, nowadays). I was about 12 years old. I would characterize my group of friends and I, as little kids in preteen bodies. Sometimes, we were still enamored with little kid toys. Despite the ties to our toys and such, we preteens also felt that we were grownup, and we hurried to put away all things childish. We were typical kids, struggling to be ourselves. I liked to watch Sesame Street—I thought it was hilarious and clever, as compared to Mr. Rogers, which I found slow and dull. I have a great deal of respect for Fred Rogers, but I could never get into the show—I guess I was too old when it started. Both shows had been on TV for just a few years, and, Sesame Street, with its quick pace and zany characters—I loved it. And Kermit the Frog—I loved him too. But, I’m not here to talk about Kermit, either. I’m here to talk about a different set of frogs. The Gift of Frogs.
It was December. My mom was a big arts and crafts enthusiast, and she often found new projects to attack. She excitedly showed me a sewing pattern for a floppy frog which she planned to make. My preteen response, with attitude, was like, “Whatever.” A few days later, when she finished making the frog, she showed it to me. It was the cutest, floppiest, goofiest thing I had ever seen. I was in love! It was like a prehistoric version of a Beanie Baby (it would be years before Beanie Babies made their first appearance.) It had button eyes, and a soft loosely fit stuffing. I immediately quizzed her to find out how easy it was to make. I was developing a plan.
With my mom’s help, I’d say 70% my mom, and 30% me, I sewed together a few frogs to give to my closest friends. I thought it would be a perfect Christmas present. I had carefully looked through my mom’s extra material to select just the right pattern and color for each friend. When complete, I lined up the frogs side by side on the table to admire them. I liked the frogs so much, that, over the next few days, I thought about spreading out into my next layer of friends. I didn’t usually exchange Christmas gifts with them, but these frogs were SO CUTE! I quickly started sewing a second phase of frogs, taking more of the responsibility this time. A few days later, I was thinking of some of my friends in my Junior High class, who were BOYS, and thinking that they would actually get a kick out of the funny little guys. More material, more sewing, until, finally, I had sewed a total of 25 frogs for my friends at school, everyone in my class. As the Christmas holidays approached, I carefully wrapped 25 stuffed frogs in Christmas paper, loaded them into 2 oversized bags, and headed off to school. I knew this would be a big surprise for everyone in class.
In my homeroom class, my teacher good-naturedly let me pass out the presents to my classmates. To say that it was a frenzy of activity is a huge understatement. There was complete chaos as 25 preteens squealed with glee, 25 wrappings fell to the floor, and 25 frogs flew up and down in the air, across the room, from kid to kid. There was only one problem. I uneasily realized that there were 26 kids in the class. I quickly noticed that a girl, who I barely knew, sat in the middle of the room, staring straight ahead amid the frog chaos. She had moved to town fairly recently, or maybe she had been there longer. She had not really connected with anyone at school, yet, so I hadn’t even remembered her. I didn’t mean to exclude her, but there she was, looking like she wished she could fall through a hole in the floor. She was the only one who wasn’t enjoying the frog frenzy. I felt sick with a pit in the middle of my stomach. I’m not sure if anyone else noticed, but I noticed, and, of course, she noticed.
Before I could process the situation, the teacher called time on all the festivities, and the frogs were stuffed away into bookbags. I’d like to say that I later spoke to the girl privately to apologize for putting her in such an awkward position. My 12-year old self wasn’t that mature. Instead, I just avoided her. But, that doesn’t mean I forgot about it. I thought, time and time again, about how I got caught up in the excitement of my vision, and how I had never intended to create a gift for everyone in the class. Well, almost everyone. But, things had slowly progressed, and that’s how it ended up. My project had unintentionally singled the girl out. I wondered if my mom should have questioned me a bit, to help me think clearly about what I was doing, but I probably wouldn't have listened to input from her.
A Pillow My Mom Sewed For Me
I’m not sure what I should have done differently to keep Frog-Gate from happening. I just don’t think that I would have anticipated the raucous scene or remembered the forgotten classmate. In hindsight, I think it would have been wise to make an extra frog, just in case, which, if not needed, I could have kept for myself, or given to the teacher. I don’t beat myself up for forgetting the classmate. But, I do know that I should have acted differently when I realized what was happening. Sometimes things get away from us in ways that we can’t predict. I don’t think we can take away the hurt that we sometimes cause. But, I think we should do our best to apologize for the situation, and go over and above to try to make it up to people in other ways. We should definitely do our best to keep from excluding people, whether on purpose, or accidently.
I can’t imagine being The Girl Without a Frog. It was hard enough being the girl who created The Gift of Frogs.