The Prince of Frogs

The three-year-old toddled earnestly along the dusty path ahead of his mother. She had learned to keep a careful eye on him, especially when this spirit of mission appeared in the pumping of his chubby little legs and the swinging of his short little arms. She had also learned that, once he became fixed on a goal, there was little harm in letting him see it through. His missions usually ended with not much more damage than muddied feet or another rip in his little tunic.