Nice to see that little guy in his favorite "bibs." Guess he didn't want to play on the swing with those girls in dresses. Or he was about to go looking for toads and other such slippery things to "show off" his hunting skills to the girls.
One of my Mother's stories involved not wanting to look through my pockets in the laundry. One time she supposedly found angle worms in one pocket and a dead toad in the other. Although it does smack of my modus operandi, I don't remember the incident and cannot verify that the toad was alive when I put in the pocket. I suspect I was guilty of bufocide.
Be that any old Plymouth?
I do not know. I guess that part of my memory is gone.
You're not old if you bring something to life. And that's what you've done, in this post and on your blog.Happy Thanksgiving!
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