When we were younger than 10 years old and still living in Irving on Dunning Circle, our house was like a playground for everyone on the street. Our small, 3 bedroom home sat at the very end of the street in the circle, directly opposite the entrance onto the street, which seemed miles away to me when I was only at the ages of 4-7.
Apart from being the popular home to hang out at, and having a trampoline I must add, we always searched for frogs in the alley behind our house with all our friends. We would collect them in buckets and bring them to our front yard, where we had lanes set up, usually 3 or 4. That many people would take a frog, set it on the ground, and when my brother would say go, we'd let the frog go and pound on the earth to make it jump to the finish line. In essence, we had frog races.
It's one of my fondest memories from my childhood. Seeing all the neighborhood kids gathered around for harmless fun and entertainment was special. As a result, I've always loved frogs.
So when Shoobie picked up his first frog, it seemed special. So special, in fact, that Jennifer called me to let me know. Why?
Shoobie named his frog Ichael.
Despite having a sty in my left eye, I couldn't help but laugh and smile when I heard that. There's something about my name that is intriguing. How I got my name is even more interesting.
My brother, Brian, Shoobie's dad, named me Michael because when Mom was pregnant with me, he wanted a black brother named Michael. When he asked for that and Mom couldn't deliver upon his wish, he asked for a black rabbit. To compensate for that, they let him name me Michael.
And now I have a special frog named after me...or is it after e, without the m?
Ironically, today is Shoobie's actual birthday. A frog-happy 3 years old!
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