We have a lot of frogs in our neighborhood. I think it has to do with the ditch that's a mile or two away. This means there's always a petrified little frog body in the middle of our neighborhood's streets. Poor things just dry up right there in the middle of dry, barren road as if they didn't already tempt fate by surivivng as frogs in the desert. Oh the fate of little frogs in Northern Nevada.

The dogs like to stop and sniff the frog bodies, well, because they're dogs and that's their job. As I was pushing Gwen in the stroller with Homer pulling us on his leash he stopped to sniff a dead frog. This prompted me to narrate "ewwwww, dead frog" as he sniffed so which lead to Gwen laughing hysterically as if I were Louis C.K. delivering a joke.

We came home and went about our normal business thinking nothing of the dead frog occurence. Hours later I was telling Jake about our silly little girl and how she found the term "dead frog" funny. Next he did what any father would do in the situation and looked at Gwen and said "dead frog." She responded with the same response she had on the street, one hearty toddler laugh we can't get enough of.

Days later "dead frog" has been inducted into our bag of tricks for Gwyneth. You can take that child from a deadspin of crying straight to laughter in the blink of an eye by muttering "dead frog." She can be running around the house immersed in some activity and if you say "dead frog" she will immediately let out a hearty giggle.

So, I leave you with this on this chilly Fall day:

Dead Frog

{Tell me you didn't just giggle, a little?}