I don’t know who made up this story, but it’s full of surprises! It turns out a witch in a bad mood put a curse on the prince, turned him into a frog and threw him into the well. That makes her even worse than the not-so-nice princess.
The princess was much more interested in the frog then. Not only because he was a handsome human, but because he had his own beautiful castle in his own personal kingdom. So they went off and got married!
“And they lived happily ever after,” Brenda reads at the end.
Now I understand why the frog asked her to kiss him, but I’m not so sure I understand why he wanted to marry her. Maybe living in a well for a long time clouded his thinking.
In the end, I’m hoppy they lived happily ever after.
“That story doesn’t make sense,” Willy argues. “Who’d want to marry a princess like her?”
Willy and I think alike.
“You don’t understand,” Brenda tells him. She seems thrilled by the ending. “Og might be a handsome prince!”
Willy makes a face. “Handsome?”
I’m not sure if I’m a prince, but I am good-looking for a frog. Even Mrs. Morales said so.
“Did you like the story, Og?” Brenda asks me.
“Not bad,” I say. “I liked the part about him having his own kingdom.”
“Boing-boing to you,” Willy says.
Brenda sighs. “Og should have his own castle.”
Willy giggles. “He’s not really a prince. That’s just a story.”
Brenda leans in and stares at me intently. “He could be. You can’t tell.”
Even though I don’t agree with her about how good the story is, she could be right. Maybe I am a prince. That’s what the frognapper said.
Brenda stares at me intently. “What would a frog castle look like?” she wonders.
Willy thinks. “It would be small and muddy.”
“No way. Castles are supposed to be big!” his sister says. “And don’t forget, Og is a prince.”
“You are loco,” Willy says. “He’s not a prince.”
Brenda answers, “I think he is.”
Snakes alive! I don’t know what to think!
“We need to build Prince Boing-Boing a castle,” Brenda says.
Willy isn’t interested. “Who cares about some old prince, anyway? He sits in a castle all day. Big deal.”
“You don’t know anything about princes,” Brenda insists. “Princes explore new lands and go on quests! They face dragons and giants and have sword fights.”
“They do?” Suddenly, Willy looks interested. “That’s cool.”
I’m interested, too. Exploring is what I’m yearning for!
Brenda hands Willy her book and tells him to look at the pictures.
“Wow, this giant has one eye in the middle of his forehead!” he exclaims.
I wish I could look at those pictures.
“But Og has to have a castle,” Brenda says. “I’ll draw a picture of it.”
Before you can say “catch a cricket,” she takes out paper and crayons and is drawing as fast as a hungry snapping turtle chasing a toad.
“Frogs live in swamps. I saw it on TV,” Willy says. “They like places that are damp and muddy. So he’d have a swampy castle.”
Wow—I like the way he thinks.
“No, no, no!” Brenda insists. “If he’s a prince, his castle should be big and beautiful, with sparkles.”
Willy shakes his head. “He’s a frog. It should be muddy. No sparkles.”
Nobody asks me what I think, but I’d prefer the muddy castle.
Soon, Willy is drawing, too.
After a while, Mr. Morales reappears. “Wow, it’s nice to see you two working quietly together.”
He comes up to my tank. “Señor Og, I think you are a good influence.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
“But we need to have dinner,” he says. “Mom’s clients want to put in an offer on a house, so she has to stay longer. Are you two up for our famous tacos Morales?”
Brenda and Willy jump up and down, shouting, “Yay!”
“Let’s go make them,” he says.
Soon they are off in the kitchen. I am hoppy for the break. I need time to think about that story and about being a prince.
What if a swamp witch put a curse on me when I was a tiny tad and I don’t remember? I never saw any dragons or one-eyed giants in the swamp, but if I had my own kingdom, I bet I could stop the bullying bullfrogs from making so much noise.
I could ban snapping turtles and water moccasins completely.
I could make the decisions.
I float in the water and try to imagine such a life.
Mrs. Morales returns home in time to eat tacos with the rest of the family. Afterward, they all come in to check on me.
“So, Og, I hear that you are a prince,” Mrs. Morales says. “El principe.”
In Spanish, it almost sounds like “principal.”
Willy and Brenda show their parents their drawings.
“Wow, such different takes on his castle,” Mr. Morales says.
“I’m impressed with them both,” his wife says. “You kids are so creative.”
“Mine looks more like a castle,” Brenda says.
Willy doesn’t agree. “Not for a frog!”
“Show them to me,” I boing. “I want to see my castles!”
They laugh at my boings, then move into another room to watch a movie. I can hear the tads on the way.
“I want to watch the princess movie,” Brenda says.
“Aw, I don’t want to see that,” Willy complains.
Brenda explains that it has a prince in it, too.
“And a giant?” Willy asks.
“Nope. A fire-breathing dragon!” she tells him.
Willy happily agrees to watch.
Meanwhile, I’m left alone on the coffee table. And the drawings are on the sofa on the other side of the room.
I am curious about those drawings. After all, one of those castles might be a nice future home for me. Is it big? Is it mucky? Are there crickets nearby?
After the movie, Brenda and Willy rush in to tell me good night.
“Can I kiss him?” Brenda asks. “And see if he turns into a handsome prince?”
I’m curious about that myself. (Not the kissing part. Just the handsome-prince part.)
“No kissing, except your mom and dad,” Mr. Morales says, and he whisks them out of the room.
I must admit, I am relieved.
Slowly, the house gets quiet. Willy and Brenda must be asleep. I hear the voices of their parents for a while, and then the house is dark and silent.
There’s a little light coming from the hallway, so I can see the sofa across the room.
I sure would like to see those castle drawings. Because maybe I am a prince! I mean, who knows? I’m almost starting to believe it.
And somehow, a song starts to grow in my brain.
I’m a prince!
I’m a prince!
Brave as can be!
Brave as can be!
I love to go on a daring quest.
I hardly even get time to rest.
They say as a prince I’m the very best.
Oh, I’m a prince!
I’m a prince!
I’m a prince!
All hail to me!
All hail to me!
I’d love to live a most princely life,
With a beautiful princess for a wife,
A life of leisure, with little strife!
Oh, I’m a prince!
I Leap Outside the Box
According to the legend, the Great Unknown wasn’t anything like the swamp. Some places had tall mountains reach
ing up to the clouds. Others had roads, with humans riding creatures with large hooves. (Sir Hiram kept clear of them.) The worst was the flat kingdom as dry as dust, with no green to speak of except tall plants with scary needles. Sir Hiram was in big trouble there! He hopped his way to a far-off tree that had dew on the bark and got as much water as he could to keep going. When night fell, he hopped like a jittery jackrabbit until he got to a woodsy, damp place. Whew—safety at last!
* * *
In Room 26, there’s no safe way for a frog to get down off the table, because it’s so tall. But here in the principal’s house, my tank is on a low table.
It’s so low, I could probably pop the top off my tank, leap onto the table, drop down onto the carpet below and hop on over to the sofa where the drawings are.
But how would I get up on the sofa? Right now, I wish I could be as good at climbing as a tree frog.
The sofa isn’t too high, however, and right next to it is a low, padded footstool. It looks like a bouncy toadstool to me. And maybe—just maybe—that might be the key to getting up to the sofa.
However, I can’t explore new territory without first leaving my tank.
I decide to pop the top.
I focus on one corner and begin to leap. All that leaping-hopping-swimming practice on the weekends is paying off. I am a lean, mean froggy machine!
After six or eight good leaps, the top moves enough to create a space big enough for me to leap through safely.
And BING-BANG-BOING—I make it, landing squarely on the tabletop.
I stop to catch my breath and then take a short hop down to the footstool. It’s as fuzzy and springy as the mossy shore of a pond.
I start slowly. Small bounce. Bigger bounce. Aim-high bounce. Go-for-it bounce!
Using the combination of the springy footstool and my powerful back legs, I launch myself through the air. Wheee! Did Neil Armstrong feel so free when he headed to the moon?
Touchdown! I land on the nice, soft sofa, right next to a soft pillow.
Welcome to Planet Sofa!
It does feel like another world. The sofa is so cushy, I sink down with every step. And it’s so dry that my toes stick to the cloth a little bit. I wonder if Sir Hiram Hopwell’s explorations were ever like this!
I make my way to the drawings and stand back to study them.
The two castles couldn’t be more different. The first picture shows a tall, narrow one with whirly towers and a little stream of water around it. I like the water part. I’m not so crazy about the green walls. I’m also not sure how I’d ever hop to the top.
The little starbursts? I guess those are sparkles.
I like the flag on top of the castle with a picture of a green frog on it. Next to it is a second flag that reads PRINCE BOING-BOING’S CASTLE.
The other drawing is a mound of something muddy and messy that makes me homesick for the swamp. I can almost smell the muckiness of it. This building also has a stream around it, and it’s shaped to look something like a castle, if you use your imagination.
It has a flag on top that says KINGDOM OF OG—KEEP OUT—THAT MEANS YOU!
I’m pretty sure that the green castle is Brenda’s drawing and the other one is Willy’s.
And since I love a damp and mucky home, Willy’s is just about perfect.
I know one thing: It was worth all that effort to get out of my tank to see these. I’m glad I took the risk!
I know something else: Getting back to my tank may be more difficult than getting over here. But if I’m going to be a prince, I must be the bravest in my kingdom. I must try, even when it’s hard. Now I have to get to the table.
I take a deep breath. Remembering Granny Greenleaf’s advice, I look before I leap and take the plunge from the sofa to the footstool. Now I have to get to the table.
It’s not that far, but the timing must be perfect.
Again, I begin with small bounces, working my way up to big ones. Keeping my eyes on my target (the table), I take another deep breath. “That’s one small hop for a frog and one giant leap for frogkind!” I say as I take flight and soar through the air. I feel as light as a butterfly and almost as graceful.
I land on the table, but not nearly as gracefully as a butterfly. I didn’t think about the smooth table being so slick, and I slip and do a series of somersaults. There’s no way to put on the brakes . . . but incredibly, I stop short of sailing off the edge.
I pause there for a moment to catch my breath. Then it’s time to go back inside the tank.
Whoa! I forgot to have a plan for this move. Leaping out of the tank was hard enough. Leaping back in will be more dangerous. There is no bag of Nutri-Nibbles to help me get part of the way.
I could miss completely and sail off the table.
Or I could have a hard landing or end up hitting the corner of the tank.
“If you stop your rushing and your hurrying, you’ll have to do a lot less worrying.” That’s one of Granny Greenleaf’s favorite sayings. It sounds like good advice to me.
I take my time. I hop around the tank first, to find the best place to begin my jump through the opening.
In my journey around the tank, I notice a couple of crayon boxes on the table. I hop onto them, and I’m much closer to the top of the tank now.
I remind myself how powerful my legs are. How often I outjumped all my froggy friends—except for Jumpin’ Jack. He kept me on my toes!
This one’s for you, Jack, I think as I leap up over the edge of the tank, land on a mossy spot on my rock and—oops!—slide straight into the water. It’s a bit of a shock, but the water feels wet and wonderful.
I made it!
Even though I’m tired, I swim a few victory laps, all the while humming:
I’m a prince!
I’m a prince!
See how I swim!
See how I swim!
My legs are powerful, that is true.
I’ve practiced as much as a frog can do.
I set a goal, and I followed through.
Oh, I’m a prince!
Then I climb up on my rock, and I quickly fall asleep.
* * *
Back in the swamp, I woke up to some incredible noises—splashing, howling, flapping, the cawing of crows.
But in the Morales home, I’m awakened by loud shrieks. They’re annoying, but not particularly dangerous.
“Hi, Og!!! Did you sleep okay?” Brenda yells.
“Og! Og! Og! What a frog! Frog! Frog!!” Willy shouts.
Mrs. Morales hurries through the living room toward the front door, followed by her husband. “Gymnastics for Brenda at ten o’clock. Soccer for Willy at eleven. Pick Brenda up and take her to her clarinet lesson. After the game, pick up Willy, then Brenda. Got it?”
“Yes,” Mr. Morales says with a big yawn. “And then drop Willy at Max’s house and take Brenda to the mall to get shoes before picking Willy up at five.”
After she’s gone, the rest of the family disappears to another part of the house. A little later, they scramble out the front door.
“See you later, Og!” Mr. Morales says.
“Bye!” Brenda and Willy shout.
And then they’re gone. I stare at Planet Sofa for a while, then launch into my weekend exercise routine.
It’s dark outside and I’m dozing when the door opens again and Brenda and Willy race across the room.
“Did you miss us?” Brenda asks. “Because I really missed you! Oh—watch me do a backbend!”
I must admit, it is amazing to watch her bend her body backward and touch her hands to the floor.
“Og, you should see me kick a goal. Pow!” Willy tells me, kicking at the air.
“It’s just baby soccer,” Brenda says.
“I’m not a baby!” Willy says. “Take that back!”
&
nbsp; “Silencio, niños!” Mr. Morales says, sticking his fingers in his ears.
Luckily, Mrs. Morales comes home and the argument ends. “Let’s go out for pizza,” she says. “And celebrate . . . because I sold a house!”
Everybody cheers, and in an instant, they are all out the door and I am alone again.
Living with the Morales family is like living in a busy beehive, only slightly noisier.
Now I have plenty of time to relax and Float. Doze. Be. Then I go to sleep.
The next morning, the whirlwind of activity begins again.
“Good morning, dear little Og,” Brenda greets me.
“Hiya, Og!” Willy says as he races into the room. “How’s my favorite frog?”
I’m glad I’m his favorite. But if he could turn the volume down a notch, I’d appreciate it.
I slide into the water, where the noise is muted but I can still hear them.
“Today we’re building your castle!” Willy says. “One that looks like my picture!”
“No way,” Brenda says. “We’re building the castle I drew!”
Willy demands to know, “Why yours?”
“Because I’m older and I know more. And you’re the baby of the family.”
“BABY?” Willy shouts. “I AM NOT A BABY!!!”
Then I hear a familiar voice. “Niños, I don’t think you’re building either castle. At least not today,” Mr. Morales says.
His children wail, “Noooo!”
“Today is cousin Diego’s birthday party—don’t you remember? There’s going to be a magician and a piñata, musica, good food and games! Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Mr. Morales says.
Brenda and Willy nod their heads, but they aren’t smiling.
I don’t know what all those things are, but it doesn’t sound as if there will be any frogs invited to the party.
Back in the swamp, our hatchday celebrations were simple but tons of fun. Many of us shared the same hatchday, which made it even more fun. We had leaping contests and lily pad racing. And then everyone gathered around and sang to the guests of honor.
Happy hatchday to you.
Happy hatchday to you.
Exploring According to Og the Frog Page 4
