Peter
collected three more frogs and then plopped down beside Norman.
“See
those clouds building over yonder and feel that breeze?” Peter said. “That
means rain’s comin’. We better go home.
Drop.
Drip.
I believe Peter is the smartest nine-year-old
in the whole state of Alabama, thought Norman.
Drop.
Drip-drop.
Drip-drop-drip.
The
pitter-patter of raindrops rapidly sped to a downpour.
Peter
danced through the cotton shrubs and sang:
“It’s raining; it’s pouring.
The old man is snoring.
He went to bed and bumped his head.
And he wouldn’t get up till morning.”
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