Party + The Second Task
March 15, 2025 — 8:29pm
Dear Reese,
You clap some more at the impromptu party with neighbors and friends tonight. For a while you watch everyone, your serious face on, but later (after some snacks) you crack a smile, then clap, then crawl. It turns out you love artichoke dip. I do too so MorMor distracts you with an avocado while I finish the serving on my plate.
This morning you hit a Door County milestone and visited Al Johnson’s for the first time. It’s too soon in the season for the goats but a great time of year to visit — not so busy with no wait. I get you your order of Swedish pancakes and fresh strawberries from the kids menu and Cappi gives you some of his eggs. It’s the same order I got as a kid. It’s no surprise you love it — everyone loves Al Johnson’s pancakes.
We walk around Sister Bay after breakfast and do some shopping and errands before heading to the cottage for the afternoon. I drag a little today. Last night you woke up crying before midnight and a half hour later still couldn’t get back to sleep. It’s probably a bad habit I’m starting by crawling into bed with you — it doesn’t help me sleep any better — but I love being next to you and you seem comforted. With teething and diaper rashes, I just want to snuggle with you until you feel better.
Before bed this evening, we imagine the next installment of our story during bathtime:
As you search for a way to complete The Great Bullfrog’s second task to find her golden fly, your ducky guide leads you to the creature who has been in the pond as long as The Great Bullfrog. You wade through lily pads to the far edge of the pond, where a large snapping turtle rests.
(You have a turtle toy floating in the tub, we place him on the rim to speak to you.)
“Why have you disturbed my rest?” the turtle asks in an old gravely voice.
You tell him you’re on a quest from The Great Bullfrog to receive a gift that will help your family.
“Hmm, I don’t know anything about a golden fly,” the turtle tells you when you tell him more. “It’s been many seasons since I spoke to her at all.”
“Please, what was she like when you knew her better?” you ask. “How did she first come to the pond?”
“She came here to live with her sweetheart, of course,” the turtle says. “Quite a weak croak, he had, that spotted frog. But she seemed rather taken with him. I remember they used to call each other all sorts of endearing names for everyone to hear and he often gave her gifts that she’d tell everyone about. Poor frog, he passed a while back.”
Gifts? You perk up when you hear this and wonder if this is a lead. You ask more questions . . . where did she keep these gifts?
“They’re at the bottom of the pond, I expect,” he says. “The old castle was destroyed in the flood last year and much was lost.”
With a word of thanks, you and the duck head off to the site where the old castle sunk. The duck shows you how he holds his breath when he dives under, and you take a deep breath and do the same. Again and again. It takes a long time of exploring the bottom of the pond — you find more Giant trash, swim past schools of minnows, and see dark green plants on the pond floor.
Then, you see it, a golden charm in the shape of a heart. You bring it to the surface and in the magic language of the frogs it reads: for my golden fly.
You’ve done it! You understand now and hurry to bring the charm to The Great Bullfrog.
You kneel and present the charm to her. “You are the golden fly,” you say.
Tears come to her eyes. “My sweetheart gave me that,” she tells you. “He used to call me his golden fly because of how high I could jump, it was a little endearment between us. Thank you for returning this memory to me.”
We clap, you’ve completed the second task.
Love,
Mama