Christopher/Chris-Hopper
by Rachelle Pace Castor, Friend, Mar. 2000,  30
 

My name is Christopher. My feet jump, jump, jump, and run, run, run, and hop, hop hop, so much that Mom calls me Chris-hopper.
 

On Sunday, Mom said, “Chris-hopper, it’s time to be Christopher. Tell your feet to slow down.

I told them, but they forgot.
 

On Monday, Mom and I went to the zoo. We saw giraffes, lions, elephants, and monkeys. Best of all, I liked to watch the kangaroos hop. I call them roo-hoppers. Then we saw a giant turtle moving oh … so … slow. I call it a no-hopper. It gave me an idea.
 

On the next Sunday, I put on my best clothes and my best shoes. Then I taped a little picture of a turtle on the toe of each shoe. “No-hoppers!” I exclaimed and ran to show Mom. She gave me the thumbs-up.
 

At church, I looked at the turtles on my shoes and said to my feet, “No-hoppers at church.” Now my feet remember to walk in the meetinghouse.
 

But when I go outside, I’m Chris-hopper again.