Dawn broke over the seashore. Splash-hush, splash-hush — the waves rolled in and left little shells behind on the wet sand. Out of a burrow in the sand came Mother Crab, and right behind her, her little one.
The little one scampered off to gather shells. Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch — tilted right over, going sideways across the sand! Try to go forward? His little body just kept sliding off to one side! Mother watched him quietly. And bit by bit, her two eye-stalks went stiff and straight.
Mother came bustling over. "Tut-tut! What sort of walk do you call that? Walk straight ahead, now!" The little one froze. "But Ma," he mumbled, "I really am walking straight!"
The little one thought for a moment, then edged closer. "All right, Ma — you show me, just once! Whatever way you walk, I'll walk exactly the same." And the whole shore seemed to hold its breath and wait.
Mother puffed up her chest. "Watch closely — straight ahead, just like thi—" and her body slid off sideways! She tried again — sideways once more! Harder now, claws held high — and sideways every single time! Now tell me — can a crab ever really walk straight?
Mother stopped. The sky had turned dusk-pink now, and even the waves had hushed to a whisper. She looked down at her own legs, one by one — and every single one of them bent off to the side. The little one crept over without a word and pressed close against her.
Mother burst out laughing. "Oh, silly me! There I was, teaching you something I can't even do myself. From now on, I'll show you first." And side by side, leaving two wiggly trails in the moonlit sand, mother and child went on their way — scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch.