There are some things here on Earth that just defy rational explanation. Here, for example, is a toy that we received as a gift when our first child was born in 2004. His little sister played with it, too, but lost interest after infancy. I recently found it at the bottom of a toy basket and convulsed with laughter all over again as I tried to figure out what the designer of this object was thinking.

This frog–who is about the size of my hand–has a strap on the back for securing to the bar or strap of a car seat, high chair, baby carrier, baby swing, or other object within baby’s reach. This prevents the baby from dropping the toy, encouraging lengthy happiness while adults are busy driving, eating, or doing other boring adult things.  Frog has pleasantly fuzzy skin and crinkly pants that make a subtle sound when pressed.  So far, so good.

What I don’t understand about this frog is his possession of an anatomical feature that normal amphibious frogs do not have, and the intended function of this appendage.

This long, thin strip of frog-flesh is attached to him at the crotch and unfolds from inside his pants.  It has hook-and-loop fasteners so that you can affix it around a pacifier, thus preventing baby’s pacifier from falling on the floor.  I know that’s what it’s for because it was clearly diagrammed in the instructions that accompanied the set of toys.

What I don’t understand is why anyone would want a frog to keep your baby’s pacifier in his pants.  This does not teach appropriate standards of Earth decorum and hygiene.

Luckily, neither of my children was interested in using a pacifier.  They merely appreciated the frog as a friendly-faced, crinkly-clothed companion.

I can’t decide whether to give him away with the other baby toys or put him on the bookshelf where we have a sort of informal Museum of Oddities.