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I have submitted this to several publishers as a children's picture book but have not heard back as of yet. I look forward to your input. Thank you for your critique.
LITTLE FROG, BIG KISS
My big brother came home from school yesterday looking googlie eyed, his tongue hanging out, with slobber running down his chin. He kept repeating:
“I found her! I found my princess!”
When I asked what he meant he said:
“Little brother, you have to kiss a lot of toads to find your special princess.”
So I wondered, just how many frogs DO you have to kiss before one turns to a princess?
Shoving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and one of daddy’s handkerchiefs (to wipe the toad slobber off my lips) in my back pocket, I headed for the creek out back where toads croak at dusk.
I flipped over the first rock pile I came to and staring back at me with two enormous eyes was frog number one, wondering what was about to happen. It didn’t even blink when I flopped down on the ground in front of it. I swiggled up close, squinched my eyes together and - SMACK! -
Snatching daddy’s hanky out of my pocket I swiped my mouth faster than froggy could say: “What’s up?” But… still a frog.
I moved more rocks. This time not one, but two toads stared back. Lucky for me, they were so close together, you couldn’t get a paper clip between them. I slung myself down and lickety split, kissed them both. But, same as before; no princess, only toads.
Three frogs and so far all I had was dry lips and a wet handkerchief. Froggies four, five, and six were the same. I was beginning to think my brother was wrong about this toad kissing/princess thing.
Before searching for lucky number seven, I sat down on the creek bank to eat my sandwich and think a spell. Choking down my last bite of p.b and j., it happened!
The biggest one eyed croaker I’d ever seen hopped up beside me.
“What happened to your eye?” I asked.
“Got shot out by a bb gun; boy about your age, matter of fact. But,never mind that. Heard you were looking to see how many frogs you have to kiss before you get a princess, right?” said the one eyed croaker.
Then, it happened. That one eyed croaker jumped up and planted a stinky, sloppy, nasty old warty toad kiss right smack dab in the middle of my two lips.
“See how YOU like it!” he yelled, laughing an evil frog laugh, hopping out of sight.
I felt strange and jumpy inside. I looked and… Aaaahhhh! I - WAS - THE - PRINCESS! With the whole outfit, dress and all.
Right then and there I KNEW I had to find that one eyed frog and get him to change me back into… ME!
Running through the woods, daddy’s handkerchief now a bonnet tied around my head, and a long frilly dress flowing behind me I screamed at the top of my lungs:
“I’ll get you frog!”
Suddenly, in front of my eyes was one hundred of the wartiest, slimiest, one eyed frogs I had ever seen. They whistled at me like I was the prettiest princess on the planet.
“Which one of you planted the kiss that turned me into a princess?” I yelled.
“SILENCE! You are NOW in the presence of the great frog council. On behalf of frogs everywhere, I speak,” began the frog king.
“Frogs have long been portrayed wrongly in fairy tales. We are more than objects to be POOFED into lovely princesses. We want respect, not slobbery kisses.”
“And, no more shooting at us with bb guns!” croaked another.
“I have learned my lesson,” I said. “I promise to tell your story to boys everywhere if you will only change me from this princess, back into…ME!”
“Your spell will be broken when you kiss the frog that turned you into a princess,” said the frog king. “You should begin. You have lots of frogs to kiss.”
So, I kissed each of the one hundred, one eyed frogs until I became myself again. And, wouldn’t you know it, the frog that turned me back into me was croaker number one hundred.
So, if anyone asks how many frogs you must kiss before you find your princess: tell them it takes exactly one hundred and six. And I ought to know. I’ve kissed them ALL.
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