This post is dedicated to my aunt Patty who has been known to tell a story of when I was a little boy on a family camping trip. We had caught some fish or some tadpoles and put them in a bucket somewhere on the campsite. I, being the curious little boy that I was, was mesmerized by these fascinating little creatures and apparently could not keep my eyes off them. Even after dark, I shined a flashlight into the bucket to continue my observations. Aunt Patty teasingly said, “You’re not looking at those tadpoles again are you?” Taking her teasing seriously, I turned my flashlight toward the sky and pretended to be observing something else, “Nope, I’m not looking at the tadpoles,” I’d say, only to return my attention to the bucket when I thought she wasn’t watching. As I remember the story, Patty did this numerous times and I responded in the same way every time. I must have thought that she would scold me for spending too long looking at the tadpoles.
When I saw this little boy at the market, seemingly mesmerized with this small bowl of fish, I immediately thought of aunt Patty’s story of me and the tadpoles. This is a little boy after my own heart.
By the way, to this day whenever I pass even the smallest body of water that could possibly have tadpoles or frogs in it, I can’t help myself, I have to go take a look. That little boy is still in me, just as curious as ever.
me. relating.
