Carl and the Seven Baby Crocodiles

8 pages · 6 min · ages 5+

Reginald the crocodile came down to the river, looking worried. Behind him waddled seven tiny baby crocodiles, all in a line, each one about as big as a banana. “My sister has gone to visit our auntie,” said Reginald, “and I promised to mind her babies. But the dentist wants to see my teeth this afternoon.” He looked hopefully at his friends. “Would somebody look after them? Only until sunset?” “Me!” shouted Monkey. “Us!” shouted Tuck and Pip. Carl was eating a leaf. He finished it. “Hm,” said Carl.

“They're very good,” said Reginald, backing away. “Mostly.” As soon as he had gone, the babies ran off in seven different directions. One climbed a tree. One chased a butterfly. One sat down in the mud and did not want to get up. One tried to eat Tuck. One tried to eat Tuck's other foot. And two swam off down the river, giggling. “Don't worry,” said Monkey, rubbing his hands. “Babies love a game. I'll play chase with them!”

Monkey played chase. Round the tree, over the log, through the reeds and back again. The babies loved it. They were very fast for such small crocodiles. They chased Monkey so fast that Monkey had to climb the tallest tree in the jungle to get away. Seven baby crocodiles sat in a ring at the bottom, looking up and snapping their tiny jaws. Snap, snap, snap. “Help,” said Monkey, from the very top. Carl looked up at him. “Hm,” said Carl.

“Babies like music,” said Tuck. He fetched his coconut drum. Pip warmed up a whistle. Boom-tap, boom-tap, tweet-tweeeet! The babies danced. They wiggled their tails. They stamped their stubby feet. They danced faster and faster, until they bumped into each other, fell over in a heap, and all started crying at once. Seven baby crocodiles crying at the same time is a very, very loud noise. The birds flew off. The frogs hid. Even the river seemed to hurry away.

“A story!” said Pip. “Babies love a story.” Pip flew up onto a branch and began. “Once upon a time, there was a big, scary, hairy…” The babies screamed. “A NICE, hairy,” said Pip quickly, “a very nice…” But it was too late. Seven baby crocodiles ran into the river and hid under seven lily pads. Seven pairs of round eyes peeked out. Monkey, Tuck and Pip sat down on the bank, exhausted. They looked at the sky. The sun was still high. Sunset was a very, very long way away.

Carl stood up. Slowly. He walked down to the river. Slowly. He lay down in the warm, shallow water and closed his eyes halfway, the way he always did. He didn't say anything. He didn't do anything. He didn't chase or drum or tell a story. He just lay there in the sunshine, being Carl. One lily pad moved. A baby crocodile swam out and looked at him. Then it climbed onto Carl's back. Then another one did. And another.

Soon all seven babies were on Carl. They lay very still, just like Carl. They closed their eyes halfway, just like Carl. They chewed tiny leaves, just like Carl. Then an orange dropped from the tree and landed on Carl's flat head. Plop. Carl didn't move. Seven baby crocodiles looked at the orange. Then they looked up at the orange tree. “Hm,” said the babies, all together. Monkey climbed the tree and gave each baby a tiny orange of its very own. It took quite a lot of oranges.

At sunset, Reginald came back with very clean teeth. He stopped at the river and stared. Seven baby crocodiles were fast asleep on Carl, in a row, each one with a tiny orange balanced on its head. Monkey, Tuck and Pip were fast asleep in a heap on the bank. Carl opened one eye. “Were they any trouble?” whispered Reginald. Carl thought about it for a long time. “Hm,” said Carl. And seven sleepy voices on his back said, “Hm.”