Suddenly a blond boy shouted, "There's a frog in the street!"
I looked and he was right. The boy looked worried. He wanted to save the frog from the parade.
My heart warmed to this boy's compassion. I said to him, "Don't worry. When the parade starts moving this way the frog will hop away."
And so we watched. And what I said to him would happen did. The frog hopped to the side of the road. The frog was safe. The story had a happy ending!
A few minutes later I hear this boy say to his friend, "Hey come look at this dead frog!"
I immediately turned around.
What happened?" I said. I was sad. I thought the frog had made it.
The boy said, "I killed it."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I hate frogs," he said. "One gave me a wart."
And that was it.