Last night, I saw a musical about two prim amphibians who do not use contractions when they speak. Because of course they spoke. And sang. And flew kites. And planted seeds. I wish I could discuss the homoerotic subtext, but there was virtually none. Frog and Toad are merely friends and neighbors who enjoy each other's company and do things to make each other's lives easier and more fun.

At least Ernie and Bert share a bedroom.

There has been a lot of conflict in my life lately. I have argued with my father about the wisdom of the current war, a debate that will surely be extended since, if you listen closely, you can hear the same devious rhetoric that started the current mess now being applied to Syria and Iran. I am arguing with my client in Chicago about compensation and getting the respect I deserve for my time, work, and energy. As it happens in many relationships, Rob and I seem to have passed through a period of dramatic negotiation. I cannot even impel Goblin to comply with my wishes as we walk down the street.

So it was refreshing to see a play without any conflict more devastating than whether two prim amphibians who do not use contractions should partake excessively of some tasty cookies. (And they do, bless their little hearts.)