The lizard was an unusual choice for a favourite toy. It wobbled like old jelly and its rubber had the catch of human skin to it. Half of its bottom jaw was missing on account of Matilda’s insatiable need to chew. It went everywhere with her and today it was in the kitchen, its green mouth gaped over the crusty end of the bread.
“Move it, Tildy.” Mallory stopped sawing through the loaf. “The kitchen is no place for a lizard.”
The directive was met with a stomp and a pout.
“That thing has been in your mouth. It’s not hygienic. Take it away.”
“Matilda! Do you want time out?”
The little girl grabbed the lizard to her chest with chubby hands.