Saved - 'It's a Boy!' balloon

J-cub was born at 8.34pm on a Tuesday evening. My parents live in Devon and were waiting from an announcement from us before they came to visit. After I'd spent an equally awful and lovely 2.5 hours being stitched up and having skin-to-skin with this new bundle of burning redness who'd appeared out of nowhere, I rang them to share the news (yes, apparently you can use mobile phones in hospitals now). I don't really remember what was said, as I was still pretty out of it and into my 37th hour of no sleep, but I do remember that they agreed to ring in the morning and arrange a visit.

A brief phonecall at 7.30am (really, Mum?) set them on the road and they were with us by visiting hours around lunchtime. They came with a massive vase of flowers, a lovely card, a soft blue teddy (who still sleeps with J-cub today) and the obligatory announcement balloon.

By the time we were finally allowed to leave hospital 4 days later, we had amassed a ridiculous amount of Stuff. I don't think I've mentioned this before, but Jamie doesn't drive, so it all had to be bundled into a cab along with our precious bundle of joy. Bless the cab driver, he read the instruction book and figured out how to safely strap the carseat in (one of the things from my 'To Do' list which I'd never got round to doing) and helped us to pack all our nonsense into the cab outside the hospital and into the house when we got home.

The balloon of course came with us (to the great joy of Tilly and Maeby), and when it withered and died, I packed it away into J-cub's baby box.

Tilly and Maeby have been experiencing joy of a different kind this afternoon, as they've unearthed another frog. Honestly, I have no idea where they come from. None of our neighbours have ponds and we have 6 feet high solid fences all the way round. Today's visitor was massive, much bigger than his tiny counterpart from last week who squeaked like a mouse. The more grown-up vocalisation of today sounded just like the air being squeezed out of a balloon. Tilly and Maeby are totally baffled by him, and have been following him slowly around the patio all afternoon. I feel like I should move him to a place of safety, but don't know what the right thing is to do. If I put him near the village pond, what if it's not his home? I worry he might get confused or eaten by a duck. Do ducks eat frogs? It seems like the sort of thing they would do...

Anyway, he's very good at scaring the cats off with his balloonesque noises, and hopping out of their reach when they get too close. I'm sure he can look after himself. Feel free to set me straight thought, frog-experts, if there's something I could do to rescue him.