The Legend of Squeak Frog

The day I became an auntie was the greatest day of my life. I remember the first time I held my newborn nephew, staring down in absolute awe of this brand new human being nestled in my arms. His rosy little cheeks, his chubby little face, his adorable little button nose, and the light blonde fuzz covering his soft little head, which was still slightly cone-shaped from his journey through my sister Anne’s birth canal, filled my heart with a love I’ve never felt for anyone that wasn’t a golden retriever. I knew right then and there that I would take a bullet for this kid, but for now I would just concentrate on being fun Aunt Gabby. 

His parents named him Lincoln, which was my father’s middle name, which was his parents’ tribute to the sixteenth president. Not only did it honor two great men, it was unique in the way that wouldn’t ruin the kid’s life with pretentiousness or weird spelling. And bonus! The name also lent itself to a cool nickname that happened to honor one of the greatest video game heroes of all time. In short, it was perfect. Just like him.

Sadly neither of my parents lived to see the birth of their first grandchild, so I vowed to spoil him enough for all three of us. And I have kept that promise, burying him onesies, stuffed animals, toys and any other adorable thing I saw whenever I happened to be walking through the children’s section of my favorite shopping haunts. But all that was just a dry run for the Main Event: Lincoln’s first sleepover at Aunt Gabby’s.

It took me nearly thirteen months to convince Anne to leave him with me for the weekend. Although she trusted me, she had serious reservations about Luther. Not that she didn’t adore Luther, but to a nervous new mother, a super friendly seventy-pound golden retriever might as well be Godzilla stomping on Tokyo. For this I blame my parents, for never giving in to our pleas for a dog growing up. Luckily my brother-in-law Hank did have a dog as a kid. That, combined with Anne’s best friend deciding to get married in Myrtle Beach, gave him sufficient motivation to help me convince my sister to leave Lincoln in my care.

They showed up at my garden apartment with more supplies than a small army. I bounced Lincoln on my hip while his parents set up his crib and high chair and checked each room for baby hazards. “We’re going to have so much fun this weekend!” I cooed. Luther, sitting faithfully next to me, wagged his tail in agreement. Lincoln smiled and giggled.

Anne and Hank reappeared, satisfied that my home was not a death trap, and announced they were ready to leave. “Before you go, I want you to see what I have for Lincoln,” I said, placing him in his high chair. I hurried into my bedroom and returned with a small blue gift bag stuffed with yellow tissue. 

“Thanks for keeping it simple this time,” Anne said as I put it on the tray in front of her son. “Unless it’s tickets to every Disney on Ice show until he’s ten.” Her expression showed she was only half-joking about the last part.

Lincoln gleefully pulled out the tissues one by one. The bag fell on the floor as he waved around the wrinkled paper and laughed. I picked up the bag and pulled out a faded rubber frog. “Say hello to Squeak Frog!” I said, giving it a squeeze. Squeak Frog gave his trademark squeak, as loud and clear as ever. “When I was a baby this was my favorite toy in the world. But I’m all grown up now, and Squeak Frog needs a new baby to play with. So I’m giving him to you. I know you guys will have lots of fun!” I squeezed Squeak Frog again and placed him on the tray in front of my nephew, heart brimming with pride. 

Lincoln stared at Squeak Frog for about five seconds before turning his attention back to the tissue. 

“Thank you, Gabby,” Anne said, a mysterious smile playing along her lips. “I can’t believe you still have Squeak Frog. I’m surprised you remembered him at all.”

How could I not remember him? Our family albums were filled with pictures of the two of us, and I can’t count how many times mom and grandma talked about they couldn’t take me anywhere unless Squeak Frog came along. Okay, maybe I hadn’t given him much thought for a long time, but that just made finding him in a box of junk in the hall closet all the more special. It wasn’t dumb luck, it was a sign to pass him along to the next generation. I looked over at Squeak Frog and saw he had fallen on the floor again. Lincoln was still playing with the tissue, oblivious to his absence. I picked him up and put him back on the tray. “Lincoln, Squeak Frog really wants to play with you,” I said, giving him another squeeze.

“Take it down a few notches, sis,” Anne said. “If you give it some time, I’m sure Lincoln will grow to love Squeak Frog as much as you do.”

“We really need to get going if we’re going to make the rehearsal dinner,” Hank chimed in, looking as antsy as a child who needed to pee. Anne and I both knew he was more interested in having enough time to play a round of golf, but instead of saying so we exchanged knowing glances. 

Once I’d seen them out the door, I walked back to Lincoln and saw that Squeak Frog was once again missing from the tray. Only this time, he wasn’t on the floor. I searched the entire kitchen and the living room, but it was as if he’d vanished into thin air. My bewilderment was turning to worry when I heard that familiar squeak. Following it into the bedroom, I was horrified to see Squeak Frog in Luther’s jaws. I took him back, offering a treat in exchange, and placed him in the sink to clean. Then Lincoln started fussing over what I quickly learned was a dirty diaper. Maybe I did need to slow my roll a bit. After all, we had the whole weekend. By the time his parents picked him up on Sunday, they would be best friends. 

That night I placed Squeak Frog in the crib along with the rest of Lincoln’s crew, Bunny, Bear and Bird. “Hi guys,” I said. “I’d like you all to meet your newest playmate, Squeak Frog.” I raised my voice a few octaves and waved Squeak Frog around. “I love all of my cool new friends, especially Lincoln! Let’s all go right to bed so we have lots of energy to play tomorrow! Good night!” Squeak Frog kissed everybody on the cheek and settled down next to Lincoln’s head. 

Apparently Squeak Frog failed to impress, because when Lincoln woke me up early the next morning, I saw he had been ejected from the crib. I started to think that maybe Anne was right, I was coming on too strong. From now on, Squeak Frog was playing it cool. 

Squeak Frog sat with the rest of the crew as Lincoln and I ate breakfast, dressed, and got ready to take Luther for a walk. When it was time to leave, per Anne’s instructions, I let Lincoln pick one of them to take in the stroller with him. He chose Bird, which was fine. Squeak Frog would get his turn. He kept Bunny and Bear company while the rest of us went for a stroll around the neighborhood. 

Later that day, after Lincoln’s nap, I packed up for a trip to the park. When it came time to get into the stroller I let him choose between Bear, Bunny and Squeak Toad. He picked Bear. Fine. We could all play together when we got to the park. Squeak Toad went into the diaper bag with the others. 

My optimism began to wane as Lincoln ignored poor Squeak Frog all afternoon. I could see the rejection in his sad froggy eyes as Lincoln happily played with the three plushies, cuddling them, gnawing them, toddling around with them clutched in both hands. As I wondered how he could treat a loving amphibian with such contempt, unpleasant thoughts began to intrude. The other toys were made of soft fuzzy plush, while Squeak Frog was made of rubber. The others didn’t make noise, while Squeak Frog made a noise that some people might find irritating. Squeak Frog was cute, but the hard truth was that bunnies, bears and birds scored higher on the cute meter. Did the very qualities that made Squeak Frog special also make him an outcast? What did that say about Lincoln, or me? So many thoughts were stinging me at once. Or maybe that was just the mosquitoes. It was starting to get dark. I packed up and headed home. That night, Squeak Frog slept in my bed.

The next morning Anne called to say they’d be there in thirty minutes. I decided to give it one more try. I sat Lincoln on his blanket in the living room and held Squeak Frog up to his face. “Lincoln, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot,” I said in my elevated voice. “I’d really like you, and I’d like to be friends. Can you give me another chance?” I then put him on the blanket and sat back. My heart leaped when Lincoln picked him up, only to sink back down when Lincoln threw him across the room. I had to hand it to the kid, he had a good arm for his age. Made my disappointment a little less crushing.  

Suddenly Luther pounced on Squeak Frog and trotted him back over to us, dropping him at Lincoln’s feet. I watched with growing delight as they repeated it a second time, and then a third, Luther flashing that doggy smile, Lincoln gurgling with joy. It was such a beautiful thing to witness that I almost forgot to grab my phone and record it.   

Anne and Hank were suitably impressed when they saw the video. “We’re signing him up for baseball camp the minute he’s old enough to run bases without falling down,” Hank declared. 

“I’m just glad Lincoln enjoyed playing with Squeak Frog, even if he did treat him like a dog toy,” I said. That mysterious smile crept back into my sister’s expression. “What?” I asked. 

“I guess it’s time you knew,” she said. “Squeak Frog is a dog toy.” 

“What are you talking about?” I blinked. 

“You grabbed Squeak Frog off a shelf of dog toys when mom was shopping and screamed bloody murder when she tried to take it from you,” she said, her smile growing bigger. “She figured a toy was a toy and since it was cheap, she wasn’t going to waste time fighting with you. So she bought it.”

I stared at her for a moment. “You’re serious,” I said incredulously.

“Yup,” she said. “Maybe you could pass it down to Luther, and he can pass it down to Lincoln’s puppy when the time comes.”

“You’re getting a puppy?” I exclaimed. “About time!”  

“Hank wore me down,” Anne replied. Hank, who was busy breaking down the crib, took a moment to flash a thumbs up. “But we’re going to wait until Lincoln starts school, so it will be a few more years,” she firmly stated.

“So I guess I’ll hang on to Squeak Frog for a few more years,” I said, the shock of Anne’s revelation giving way to relief. Lincoln’s rejection of Squeak Frog meant nothing expect that he was smarter than me at his age. It was the kind of story he could pass down to his kids as they threw Squeak Frog for their own dog to fetch.  

And that was fine by me.