A kangaroo with no toes

Allie and I are riding in the car the other day and she tells me that when she woke up that morning she saw a baby kangaroo in her room.

OK, wierd. But not that wierd for a kid with a ridiculous collection of stuffed animals.

So I asked what she did with the kangaroo. And she says, "I put it on my bicycle."

"Really?" I say, half listening.

"Yes, Mama," she says. "But I had to pedal because the baby kangaroo doesn’t have toes."

OK, now I am listening. No toes. Where does she come up with this stuff?

"Where did you and the baby kangaroo go?" I ask her.

"Switzerland."

"SWITZERLAND?!" Really, not the answer I was expecting.

"Yeah."

"What did you do there?"

"It was cold so we left." Maybe a lucky guess...?

"Where did you go next?"

"Seasons Pizza."

Now there's an answer I would expect. My in-laws take her to Seasons Pizza at least once a week. I think they would take her there every day if I would let them...but I digress.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, and then we went to Mexico."

"Mexico?"

"Yeah."

"You and a baby kangaroo on a bike?" This story is getting better and better. In fact, it even seems familiar. Like maybe something that happened to me in college...or at a concert...but I digress again.

"Yes, Mama," she continued patiently. Like she had to remind me of something she just told me. (Now THAT is a familiar feeling!) "I was carrying the baby kangaroo because he didn’t have toes."

Seriously…I didn’t know what to do when I heard this story. My mouth hung open. I half suspected my in-laws accidentally bought the wrong mushrooms. Where did she hear about Switzerland and know it was cold there?

And then she ends the story by saying, "Mama?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"A baby kangaroo is a joey."