The frogs lived by the blue lake, on the bushy, grassy shore. Sometimes they were hunting flies and mosquitoes, sometimes they were basking in the hot sun. But what they loved most was swimming.
They dived head first into the lukewarm water, then kicked off and, bang, they were on the other side, darting through the waves at lightning speed.
- I am the best swimmer!
- No, because I am!
- Everyone knows I'm the champion! - they argued.
- Let's have a competition! - one of them finally suggested.
As we all liked the idea, they quickly got organised.
They decided to hold it three days later to give them time to train and practice.
They marked out the start, a large flat pebble and the finish, a beautiful water lily on the opposite bank. A judge was also sought: a turtle took on the honour.
In the following days, all the frogs were trying to get into top form.
They stretched and stretched their muscles, perfected their jumping technique and swam, swam and swam. But there were other ways they prepared for the championships.
They made themselves beautiful swimming trunks from flower petals and plant stems. Red, purple, blue, yellow, striped and navy.
- Once there is a championship on the lake! There must be a way! - they said and walked proudly and peckishly up and down the shore.
One of the frogs, the smallest, who was always a swift, skilful swimmer and had every chance of winning, was completely absorbed in making up his swimming trunks.
Sometimes he sewed a little more, sometimes he coloured patterns on it, narrowed it, widened it, stitched shiny pebbles on it, and fluttering bands. He worked on the trousers even when the others were practising in the water.
- My pants will be the most beautiful! Pants of a winner! - he said.
Then it was time for the big race, and the frogs lined up at the starting line.
Everyone was amazed at the littlest frog's bright brown, rattling, flapping dress.
The turtle slowly scooted alongside them, and then, with a deep sigh, prepared for the task, began to count down.
- Three, I see the end of the lake. Two, the colour of the water is bluish. The robin is singing, here comes one! Go!
They kicked off the frog and swam swiftly to the water lily.
But the smallest frog was not making any progress. The pebbles sewn into his trousers were heavy, pulling him downwards, and the straps got caught in his legs or in the water plants. The clothes were tight at the waist and too baggy at the bottom. She could hardly move in it.
Halfway there, he got tired of rowing and kicked off his fancy clothes, and walked on naked, with his green bottom shining.
He swam faster, so fast that he almost caught up with the others before the finish, but he was also tired by the end, his muscles had been so tired over the last few days that he spent his time sewing instead of training.
So, panting and panting, he was the last to reach the water lily.
- Now, where are those winning trousers? - the others smiled as they helped him ashore.
The little frog was ashamed. He could have won the race if he had prepared his muscles for swimming and not just his clothes.
- Yes, those who flash get into trouble, but those who are trained fly to the finish! - he admitted.
His fancy trousers have been resting somewhere at the bottom of the lake ever since, unless a fish has taken them, but that's another story. tale would be.
If you want a a frog dish, check out the Story Plate page!
