In a lush, green pond hidden deep within the woods, there lived a frog named Francisco. He wasn’t just any normal frog, for Francisco was special in many ways. His smooth, emerald-green skin shimmered in the sunlight, his legs were long and strong, and he could leap farther than any other frog in the entire pond. But there was one little problem. No one seemed to notice that he was a frog. To all the other pond creatures, Francisco was a toad.

This was a mystery that had bothered Francisco for as long as he could remember. Whenever he met a new animal, they would look at him with dazed eyes and say, “Ah, a toad! How are you today, little toad?”

 Francisco would smile politely, but inside, he would sigh in frustration. “I’m not a toad!” he would exclaim. “I’m a frog!”

One sunny afternoon, as Francisco was sitting on his favorite lily pad, trying to enjoy the calm waters of the pond, a group of young tadpoles swam by. They giggled as they circled him, nudging each other and whispering. Francisco turned toward them, a friendly smile on his face.

“Hey there, tadpoles!” he called out. “How’s it going today?”

One of the tadpoles, a curious little one with a bright yellow tail, swam to the front of the group. “Excuse me, Mr. Toad,” the tadpole said shyly. “Can you tell us how to hop like you?”

Francisco’s smile faltered. “But I’m not a toad,” he replied, trying to keep his composure. “I’m a frog.”

The tadpoles looked at him with wide, confused eyes. “But…you look just like a toad! You have bumpy skin, and you sit all the time like a toad does!”

Francisco’s little heart sank a little. “I don’t have bumpy skin,” he replied. “My skin is smooth and shiny. I’m definitely a frog!”

 But the tadpoles swam away, unconvinced. They had seen many toads before, and Francisco was definitely a toad.

Later that day, Francisco decided to visit his friend, Lily the dragonfly. Lily was perceptive, and she had a knack for seeing things others didn’t. Surely, she would understand that he was a frog and not a toad. He hopped to the edge of the pond where Lily was resting on a cattail reed, her wings shimmering like stained glass in the afternoon sun.

“Hello, Lily!” Francisco called out, waving a webbed foot.

Lily looked down at him with a smile. “Well, hello, Francisco! How’s the weather down there in your pond today?”

“It’s lovely, as always,” Francisco said, hopping up to join her on the reed. “But Lily, I’ve got a problem. Everyone seems to think I’m a toad!”

Lily tilted her head thoughtfully. “Hmm, that’s odd. You don’t look like a toad to me, Francisco. You’re sleek and smooth, with a beautiful green color. Toads are usually bumpy, and the color of mud.”

“Exactly!” Francisco exclaimed. “But every time I meet someone, they insist I’m a toad! I don’t know how to explain it to them.”

Lily thought for a moment, then smiled. “Maybe you should show them what makes you a frog. Prove it to them!”

Francisco’s eyes lit up. “Show them what makes me a frog…That’s a great idea! But how should I do it?”

“Well,” Lily said, her wings buzzing with excitement, “why not show them your leaps? Frogs are known for their big, powerful hops. Toads don’t leap as gracefully or as high as frogs do.”

Francisco nodded eagerly. “I can do that! I’ll show them my best jump!”

Francisco made his way to the center of the pond, where a large rock jutted out from the water. He took a deep breath, stretched his long legs, and leaped high into the air, soaring above the water with a graceful bound. He landed on the rock with a soft plop, feeling the coolness of the stone beneath his webbed feet.

The creatures around the pond gasped in awe. The fish swam to the surface, the birds perched on nearby branches, and even the shy turtles peeked their heads out from the water. Francisco beamed with pride.

“See that?” he called out to the crowd. “That’s what a frog can do! Toads can’t leap like that. Frogs jump high and far!”

The animals around the pond stared at him, wide-eyed. A nearby heron, who had been watching intently, tilted his head. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve never seen a toad leap so gracefully. That’s the work of a true frog!”

Francisco grinned. “Exactly! I’m a frog, not a toad!”

For the first time in his life, Francisco felt understood. The animals around the pond began to murmur among themselves, nodding in agreement. “Francisco’s a frog!” they said. “Not a toad!”

From that day on, Francisco no longer had to explain himself. The animals of the pond recognized his leaps, his smooth skin, and his cheerful attitude as signs of a true frog. And though there were still a few creatures who occasionally made the mistake of calling him a toad, Francisco no longer minded. He knew who he was, and that was enough.

As the sun began to set over the pond, Francisco sat on his favorite lily pad, watching the stars begin to twinkle in the sky. Lily flew by and landed beside him.

“You did it, Francisco,” she said. “You showed them what makes you a frog.”

Francisco smiled, feeling proud and happy. “I guess I did. But I think the best part is knowing who I am, no matter what anyone else says.”

Francisco the frog settled in for a peaceful evening, content in the knowledge that sometimes, it’s not about how others see you—it’s about how you see yourself.