The other day we were driving home from somewhere and Riley was rooting around in the cupholder attached to his booster seat, grousing because he couldn’t find a Lego he’d dropped in there. For no particular reason I said well, maybe the tiny alligator that lives in the cupholders accidentally ate it.

No way, Mom, he said. Alligators are too big to live in cupholders.

Not this one, I told him. This alligator is super tiny, because it lives on the crumbs that fall in there.

It’s too tiny to bite people? he asked.

Oh yeah, I said. Besides, this alligator’s really nice. It doesn’t want to bite people. It just wants to eat the crumbs from your crackers and cookies and things.

Well why don’t I ever see it? he asked.

Because it’s scared of people. I mean, to the alligator you’re like a huge giant. The alligator doesn’t know you’re actually a friendly boy.

Riley asked all sorts of questions about the alligator, and later he wanted to make a little bed for the alligator so it wouldn’t get too cold at night. He made a pillow out of an old sock, tucked in a washcloth for the blanket, and dropped a piece of waffle on top. There, he said with satisfaction.

The next day when we got back in the car, he shouted with surprise at the note waiting for him in his cupholder.

This is from the ALLIGATOR, he breathed. Its name is Al . . Allie.

He went on: I can’t believe it! I can’t believe the alligator left me a note! I’m so happy the alligator likes me, Mom.

allie

So, you tell me: was that wrong?

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