Tadpoles in my fridge

There are tadpoles in my fridge. Literally. Three of them, swimming in a Tupperware. I don't know why they are there...well, I do, but I don't. They are there because I have a shit ton of boys, and those boys have a shit ton of friends. They are always around, hanging out in the driveway, playing in the yard, shooting hoops. And catching frogs and tadpoles.

Like this. Swimming around. In my fridge.

Why they thought they should go in the fridge, I do not know. And I don't even really care. It's Friday evening, I'm tired, and I want them returned to their natural habitat, STAT! We have a catch and release policy in our house. I don't like to see little frogs or bugs, or even spiders, in jars. (It is okay, however, to catch moths and throw them in the ginormous spider's web right outside our back door. I'm good with that. It's science!) It makes me feel bad seeing things in a jar. So go ahead and catch it, but then put it back.

Now, to be fair, they were in the garage fridge. My first thought was because they thought I wouldn't look in there. So I was pissed. When I carried the container the house, I already knew who was involved and I called him to the dining room loudly. "They aren't mine. They are {insert friend's name}." This is a new friend who is now at our house pretty much every day. Eating dinner over here. Nice enough kid. But I am baffled for a second. Why would this kid put tadpoles in my fridge? Doesn't he know they will get cold? I know that he's moved here from a different state, so I stop to think, "Is this a thing? Like a custom, or something?" No. No. It's not a state thing. It's a boy thing.

So by now I am really feeling bad for the poor, cold tadpoles, and I want them returned to their pond immediately. I tell my child to get on his bike and hustle is butt over to the pond across the street and put them back. "But that pond is dried up." What? Where did they come from? "From the pond by {insert friend's name}'s house." Dang it. This is farther away. I look at the tadpoles. I look outside. It's getting dark.

I command him to get on his bike and return them immediately. I do not care that it's a five minute bike ride. No, I don't care. You can do it. You've already been back and forth from there like 17 times this afternoon. One more time will not kill you. Child leaves. He's back in less than a minute. "It's leaking." What is leaking? "The container." I do not care. Put it in a plastic bag and start peddling. Go straight there. Tell your friend tad poles don't go in the fridge. Tell him to put them back in the pond. And no he cannot spend the night. Then pedal back here as fast as you can.

Is it time for bed yet? Why yes, I believe it is.