Making Mom Hoppy

My mom was a prissy lady – always fixing her hair, putting on her make-up, and making sure her clothes were perfectly matched; and she made sure that I went by the rules! 

You know them– can't wear white after Labor Day; ladies—no hats after 5 in the afternoon.  And God forbid you should go ‘potty’ without turning on the faucet so no one would hear you. Those were the ‘rules’ I’m talking about.  

My dad was a “man’s man.” He loved fishing, hunting, and the occasional drink with the guys. Even killing an alligator wasn’t unknown to him. You get the point. He was forever coming home with something weird for my mom to prepare – squirrel, all kinds of fish, venison, crab, duck, and shellfish, frequently lobster and shrimp. She would make him do all the prep-work and she would reluctantly prepare the dishes involved. Most of them I ate and most of them were delicious.  

One evening, after a long day out with his drinking buddies, my father came home and handed my mom a bag with something in it. She looked in the bag and was shocked to find—to her surprise—frog legs!  

“Oh, my goodness, Frankie! I am not gonna fix those things. That’s disgusting!” 

So, after they exchanged a few choice words, my mom turned around with the bag in hand and headed for the kitchen. I heard the rattling of pots and pans and before you know it, the sound of sizzling in a pan. 

It was just a little while later that my mom called my dad to come eat. He sat down at the table where she had placed a heaping helping of those frog legs. Within a few bites, he was in “frog leg” heaven. He cleaned that plate like it was his last supper, licking his fingers as he went. 

We watched him till the very last bite and without saying a word, my mom walked to the table, picked up the pan, walked to the trash can, popped the lid open by the foot pedal, and dropped the pan right in the trash. She just turned around and gave Dad that look.  

She didn’t utter a word. 

He didn’t utter a word. 

I didn’t utter a word. 

NO – we did not remove the pan from the trash. We just let that one go! For, we both had the feeling that if we took it from the trash, Mom just might use it on Dad. 

Did my dad ever bring home another frog leg surprise in a bag like that? Not on your life (or more precisely, his life)! 

Not saying that he didn’t bring home other bags of surprises but frog legs were certainly not among them. 

Those frying pans can get expensive!