I was involved in another language lesson in miscommunication during a trip to the mall with Chloe.

As soon as we walked through the entrance, something sparked and she immediately began asking if we could go and see the alligator.

I’m always impressed at how certain objects, logos or signs resonate with kids even as young as two years old. For Hanna, whenever we drove past the giant chicken in front of any Swiss Chalet she would start asking if we could please order French fries with dip. I suspect the alligator was Chloe’s giant chicken. I just couldn’t remember where she might have seen it. To my knowledge, this mall did not have a pet store so I started thinking of stores she might have noticed an alligator. Then I started worrying you could buy an actual alligator in a pet store.

As we walked, Chloe was determined to lead the way. Her stance at times was that of an Olympic skier trying on new ski boots, body parallel to the ground as she marched authoritatively telling me we had to go to see the alligator.

I asked her a couple of times about the alligator. “Was it a garden accessory in the Dollar Store?” “Was the alligator on a t-shirt at a kid’s clothing store?” “Was it a plush toy?” On she marched.

When we came up behind a bench, I noticed some pointy things sticking out the back and a little girl sitting with her grandparents enjoying some sort of mid-morning blood-sugar spike in the form of a hot fudge sundae and I thought maybe the alligator was a bench? Sadly, it was occupied.

On she trudged pulling me, speaking gator-gibberish.

Then I had a light-bulb moment. I wondered if there was an alligator ride you pay your $5 for your child to sit on for fourteen seconds while they lick other children’s melted hot fudge sundae spills off the handles but then I remembered I would never have put her on one of those things.

I tried to coax her away from the path to nowhere she was leading me to but she was so close to her destination, I could sense she was excited to have guided me all the way to the alligator.

We stood staring up at Sport-Chek on the second floor of the mall as she pointed and smiled. She started to tap dance. (Okay, she was actually spasmodically stomping but to a mother, it was an inspired Savion Glover-esque routine.)  I wondered if the store was now using an alligator as their logo as opposed to their trademark check-mark.

Chloe seemed eager to run up and even more excited to take me with her.

But all I saw was an escalator.