I am 7 years old and ever since I first understood things and words I have known that toads like me. I was around 2 when I remember my mother throwing a spoon of honey at a nice speckled green toad that perched itself on my high chair for a friendly stare. She sliced at the poor thing like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill.
At school if I was sitting by the window one of the garden toads would often drop by. 2+ 2 = 4 was accompanied by the blink blink of a visiting toad. I never really thought about all this too much. But my parents spent many happy hours contemplating my imagined magical abilities. One of their discussions went like this:
“She’s always got a toad around.”
“Maybe she has lucky lips and they’re all princes looking to be turned back.”
“Honey, I think that works for frogs, not toads.”
“Maybe she’s a fairy.”
“Or a mushroom.”
I ran away at that point because I really didn’t fancy being poked at by a fork. Why couldn’t I just be a simple girl whom toads liked?
***
Anyone is welcome to complete the above.
