The problem with buying a toddler a bright yellow frog raincoat is that, eventually, you have to convince them to take it off.
It had been forty-eight hours since our chaotic shopping trip to Madame Vionnet's boutique. The weather at the cliffside manor was beautiful. The sun was shining, the ocean breeze was warm, and there wasn't a single raincloud in the sky.
And yet, waddling across the kitchen floor with absolute determination, was a tiny, bright yellow frog.
"Pip, sweetie," I coaxed, holding out a plate of sliced strawberries. "Don't you want to take the coat off? It's warm inside. You're going to get sweaty."
"No!" Pip chirped cheerfully. He grabbed a strawberry with a chubby hand, stuffing it into his mouth. The giant stuffed frog eyes on his hood bounced as he chewed. "Frog!"
