The Unseen Crocodile at Every Meal

Elspeth took a wonderful nap today, and afterwards she awakened bright and happy, a welcome sight on a rainy, cool day. We had a splendid tea time, just the two of us, since Merry was at a friend's house and the baby was still sleeping. We spread a rosey placemat on the table, and lit a candle, and took down the real tea cups. I poured her a milky cup of tea, and we began talking.

George McDonald and Madeline L'Engle, two of my favorite children's authors, would have been pleased to sit at tea with us--well not with me, especially--I expect I would have proved a real BORE--but Elspeth (who charmed a lady at a cafe last weekend by hooking her fingers in the corners of her mouth and sticking out her tongue--after which she nestled up to the lady and carried on a frank conversation about love, life, and age) would have delighted them.

George MacDonald, beloved author of "The Princess and Curdie," believed that in a true-Myth way, imagination helps us see what is truly real, not what is "make-believe." And in her reflections about writing and faith, Madeline L'Engle writes that she actually floated down her grandmother's stairs as a child--her belief is that children so unite with and are empowered by their imaginations that they can indeed accomplish the unbelievable.

Well, in this case I am fairly relieved that Elspeth's reflections on reality did not materialize in front of my eyes. I asked her, did she have sweet dreams?

And she replied, "There was a crocodile in my room. But he didn't eat me or swallow me."

"Was he a NICE crocodile?" I asked.

Elspeth looked down at the sweets on her plate. "Well, he shared his breakfast with me. And his milk with me."

"What do crocodiles eat for breakfast?"

"Oatmeal."

Of course. I should have known that. Everybody knows crocodiles--at least the nice ones--have oatmeal for breakfast.

And then, as it turns out, the crocodile was in our kitchen, at our table for tea. I poured him ceylon (he didn't want a cup--he just opened his mouth--and I can tell you, my hand was shaking so hard the teapot lid rattled), and Elspeth shared her sweet with him. He gobbled it with alacrity, and it didn't bother Elspeth in the least that the treat he had just consumed was still sitting on the table. She said, with satisfaction, "He ate it all up!"

Well, there you have it, folks. My children are far better story-tellers than I will ever be, and they don't even have to print a word.