Frog Tacos by Estela Caballero

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It would be hard to imagine life without being a country girl.  There is a sense of wonder and appreciation for life that might not burn as bright in me without that connection.  Summer vacation was a break from school for me but being the bossy older sister in charge of babysitting four siblings required creativity.  I would make “homework” for them to keep them quiet– more out of selfishness so I had more time to spend playing or reading.  About noon they would get rowdy and at least two fights among us would have broken out.  Deals were made to not tell on each other.  During the time of peace that lasted for about an hour, we would all be great friends trying to make the other forget about the sting of hair being yanked– allegedly yanked.  If only I would have known that word back then.  Well then again, maybe it’s better I didn’t–  my mom would have probably not liked me talking around the alleged incidents the younger traitors ran to her with as she came through the door.  The peace deal was off.

There were also summer adventures to break up the fake homework I gave my students.  I loved digging for dirt frogs and catching grasshoppers.  So did the tattletales.  They rarely caught anything but the thought of being the first to say they had either was their motivation.  They ran around telling each each other how close they almost were.  As fast as they ran to catch them, they ran when I chased them with the one I would catch.  They were afraid of them and the chase they gave to catch them was a farce I would stay quiet about.  Muddy feet were sure to hit the floor of the trailer as they ran in trying to escape.  My own muddy feet quickly behind them telling them it was time to eat—  egg tacos that they were convinced were made of fluffy frogs.

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