And now we'll never invite him to another party

Let's just say you have a son. He seems like a good boy. You enjoy him most of the time. He grows up and turns eight. You let him have a party and invite all his friends. One horrid child will bring your son "Frog World." Frog World is a frog habitat, which you think looks like a really cute toy for him to house his plastic frogs.

Your son will fill out the enclosed card requesting the live tadpole that comes with the gift.

He will mail off the card in September.

Then one cold day in December, you will open your mailbox and see this:

Nothing in the mail pile should ever say "Live Tadpoles, Open Immediately!" That does not a good mail day make.

Unless you are them. Then it's the best mail day ever:

So we have a new pet. Against my will.

Chase named him Sir-Croaks-A-Lot. [I'm hoping he's more like a Sir-Croaks-Not.]

Sir-Croaks-A-Lot comes with his own food, which will only serve him for the next four weeks when he is in his tadpole state. Once he becomes a grown-up frog, he will require live crickets. Yes, that's right. I said live.

Sir-Croaks-A-Lot only enjoyed his post on my kitchen counter for about ten whole seconds. Then he was banished to the black hole that is Chase's bedroom.

[Is it wrong to hope we accidentally kill him before the four weeks are up?]