Frogs!

When Maisie was two-and-a-half, we took a very cool farm class, by far the best kid class on the planet. Every week, we'd do something different. One day, for example, we tapped a tree for sugar maple. Inside, we ate maple cookies, read a book about maple trees and then did an art project using maple leaves. Another day, we gathered eggs, ate egg salad, read a book about chickens and did an art project with feathers. 

Today, we did kind of the polar opposite farm visit. We visited a frog farm on the kids' first ever field trip, both decked out in their school uniforms: ugly, yellow, polo shirts.

Maisie was incredibly excited about taking a school bus, but not too happy that I took the 45-minute bus ride with Hudson on the little kid bus while she rode with the big kids and teachers on another bus. In fact, I didn't see Maisie the entire morning until the very end of the visit.

The ride was fascinating, taking us through very native parts of Singapore that I hadn't seen before. We passed fish farms, orchid growers and the places where they park construction vehicles. Finally, my sleeping little man and I arrived at the frog farm.

Here's the dark, ugly truth: the place was pretty disgusting. The farm raises American Bullfrogs for eating. The frogs are not native to Singapore and if they were released into the wild here, they'd totally screw up the food chain. 

We started our tour by watching a television piece shot at the farm and then visiting the breeding pens. The pens were made out of cinder block and corrugated metal and looked a bit like a lean-to you'd see in the worst parts of some really poor country - nothing like the Singapore I've come to know.

What really wigged me out were the similarly made, giant holding tanks. There were zillions of frogs in each one, many climbing on top of another. It made me think of the time I did a story in a bat cave and watched the walls appear to move as the bats wriggled. We should say frog pile instead of dog pile.

Amazingly, they didn't smell. In fact, the guy who owns the farm said he went into frog farming because it doesn't smell like cows or sheep. Hudson kept screaming, "Frog!" pointing furiously at all the hoppers. We got to feed them some dog food-like nuggets.

 

Of course, better than seeing the eggs or the tadpoles or feeding the teeming masses of frogs was TOUCHING the frogs. Hudson wasn't so into it at first, opting instead to sit on the ground. Eventually, he got interested and poked the frog not once, but twice - squealing in delight the second time.

 

The man who held them practically squeezed them in half and told us the male frog has green under the mouth and bigger ears. Who knew?

The topper of the morning was eating the frog legs. Frankly, the place was so icky, I wasn't really into it, but then Maisie walked up. Since I'm always telling her to try new things because they might be her favorite food, I felt like I had no out. Maisie held the meat on a toothpick right to my face until I tried it. She, however, did not. Grrr.

It was not like chicken. Don't believe it when somebody tells you that. I actually thought the meat was a bit like fish. I'm not quite sure what it tasted like, but I won't be having it again. The taste wasn't as nasty as the thought of the taste.

Just as I thought I'd done my duty, they brought out little cups of frog jelly. The server said it was dessert and very good for a woman's skin - to keep wrinkles away. It was a drink with something floating inside it. No wrinkles? I'm in! Turns out frog jelly is a drink and not too nasty. I wish I'd stopped there. Stupid me asked what Stupid, stupid stupid. The drink is made out of the female frog's reproductive organs. Lovely.

I got a phone call today from a woman who assesses kids with issues. She was brilliantly helpful and gave me all sorts of guidance about the schools. What has taken me weeks to figure out on my own, she told me in a half hour. Amazingly, I'm right on track with what I'm thinking would be good for my children. I should apply to either Odyssey or Eton House and then - once Maisie tests out - apply to the American School, not mentioning anything other than the very last assessment she has had. Period. If she doesn't test out by first grade (which I fully expect her to do), she can up til fourth grade at Eton House. That's pretty much her only choice.

Meanwhile, I'm very excited. Tonight we get a free trial of HBO and I FINALLY get to see "Newsroom." I've heard all sorts of things about it from my newsy friends so I'm anxious to see it though I'm afraid it'll send me into a tailspin, missing my career. Let's put those Chinese meds to the test!

Oh hell - I've watched the opening credits and I'm blue already. Sigh. God, I loved working in television news.