I don't like frogs. They're slimy, they're cold, and they're freaking ugly.

Ok. So I'm just a superficial freak who will never kiss the frog even if it will turn into a prince.

By the way, has anyone ever had frogs' legs? I'm told that it tastes like chicken. bleargh. The Chinese eat the weirdest stuff. Sigh. Why am I part of this whacked up race that eats dogs, snakes, pigeons and rhinoceros' horns?
Yuck.

Anyway, I digress. I think my fear of frogs started when my dad started making me walk along this pathway next to Kensington Park. I started calling it "Frog Way" and I guess the nickname just stuck. As you have probably already guessed (I take it that all of you are intelligent people) "Frog Way" is home to DOZENS, maybe even HUNDREDS of slimy, cold, eeeeky frogs, toads, amphibians, whatever-you-want-to-call-them. And we had to walk through that dark pathway night or day, come rain or shine.

Sigh.

Why did my dad put us through such torture? ( I say 'us' because my goondoo brother's also scared to death of frogs/toads/those ugly four-legged things but staunchly refuses to admit it. So's my mom really.) I have a feeling my dad used to be scared too, but he was just really good at hiding it.

He didn't want to pay... lemme recall.. i think it was $50 a month to park in the carpark downstairs. So he'd drive to the private estate behind Kensington Park and make us take that 10 minute walk through "Frog Way".

It was especially bad during rainy days. Hansel had a frog jump on his leg before.

Talk about child abuse.

I used to squeeze his arm so tight because I was afraid. He'd make stupid jokes all the time to lessen the tension, but I was always too scared to listen.

I miss him lots. Don't know what I'd give now to have him back. Hell, I'd walk through "Frog Way" every day if it meant that I could hold on to him the way I used to.

But come to think of it, maybe I never really let go of his arm. Or was it the other way around?