It's bizarre, the way kids pick an object to love beyond any other and it's never the object you THINK it should be. Not the soft lovey blanket or the stuffed duck you sent to your kid while she was in China. Not even the awesome purple cat that was briefly carted around everywhere.
Nope. My kid loves a stuffed frog above all else. And not just a frog... it's apparently a frog with some sort of skin condition.
I wish I knew how he got his name. I think it morphed from the itchy iguanas we giggled over in a Boynton book... perhaps since the frog was green, too, he had to be itchy?
Regardless of how he got his name, Bea and Itchy Frog are inseparable...
Itchy Frog gets zipped up into Bea's coat whenever he has to go outside.
He watches Maisy with her.
He eats her channa masala.
He gets covered up with "blankens" (which are actually my clean dish towels; thanks, kid).
He drives Barbie's Corvette. And not well.
He bravely stands on the train tracks and causes fiery collisions between the trains.
He sleeps with Bea.
He wears Bea's pajamas, pants, socks, and shirts.
He listens carefully to Eric Carle books. His favorite is Panda Bear, Panda Bear, apparently.
He goes on walks. At the end of one particular walk to Miss Erin's house, Itchy Frog ran off with the dog (or perhaps it was the other way around). Poor Bea stood there in disbelief. "Dog! Itchy Frog! Dog chomp Itchy Frog!"
Basically, if you know where Bea is, you know where Itchy Frog is. And if he's NOT there, well... Last night I was sure she was asleep, but she suddenly bolted upright and moaned "iiiiiitcheeeee froooooogggg" because she realized he was still down on the couch, paying bills with John.
This morning she very dilligently put socks on Itchy Frog (aside: I'm pretty sure his feet are nowhere near a size 3T sock; these went up to his eyebrows) so he could go to school with her. "Itchy Frog go school. Sit in cubby!" Poor, poor frog.
Related: I went to school last week to pick up Bea and Itchy Frog. While I was there, one little boy came bounding over. "Mrs. Bea's Mom! What's that frog's name?!" I told him. He looked perplexed, and a little disappointed. It seems that he refused to believe Bea when she told him it was Itchy Frog. Understandable. Completely.
As you might suspect, this frog is a little dirty by now. His once cream-colored belly is dotted with remnants of ice cream and pasta and perhaps even some Mad Mex pico burrito. I think it's time for Mr. Toad's Itchy Frog's Wild Ride in the washing machine.
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