Lucy is sitting at the dinner table. She has brought with her to the table a wooden articulated Crocodile toy that she calls Crocka (and Zoe calls Alli, because really, who knows the freakin difference?).
Rather than eat, Lucy is petting her crocodile and cooing to it. “Oh Crocka. Oh Crocka.” Then she picks it up and cradles it against her face. “Oh Crocka. You’re so crocky!”
. . . . . . . . . .
Lucy comes running up to us at the park. She’s holding a palm-sized, brown, muddy rock out for me to see.
“Mama Papa! Look! I found an ordinary rock!”