Lulu the Joey and the Lost Hop

Lulu was a little kangaroo, and little kangaroos hop. That is the whole point of them.

But this evening, on the way home from the creek, Lulu's hop went missing.

She tried it. Hop, hop... flop.

She tried it again. Hop, hop... flop. Down she sat in the dust, with her big feet out in front of her, and looked at them as if they belonged to somebody else.

"Mum," she called. "My hop's gone."

Her mother bounded back. "Gone where?"

"I don't know. I had it at the creek. Hop, hop, flop, see?"

Her mother watched. Hop, hop, flop. It was true. Lulu's hop had definitely gone somewhere.

"Perhaps you left it by the water," said her mother. So they went back to the creek, and looked under the ferns and behind the rocks and in the cool mud at the edge, and there were frogs and there were pebbles and there was one very surprised fish, but there was no hop.

"Hop, hop," tried Lulu. "Flop."

The wombat came out of his hole to see what the fuss was about. "Lost your hop?" he said. "I never had one. You get used to it." And he waddled off, which was no help at all.

The kookaburra laughed from the gum tree, which was also no help, but kookaburras cannot stop themselves.

"Try again," said her mother gently.

"Hop, hop... flop."

By now the sun was nearly down, and the dust was going pink, and Lulu's ears were drooping the way a joey's ears droop when it is tired and does not want to say so.

"I'll never find it," she said.

Her mother sat down next to her in the pink dust. She did not say anything for a bit. Then she said, "Lulu, what did you do at the creek today?"

"Hopped," said Lulu. "All day. Over the log and back. Over the log and back. Over the log and back. A hundred times. Maybe more."

"Mm," said her mother. "And what did you do yesterday?"

"Hopped."

"And the day before?"

Lulu began to see where this was going.

"Hops get tired too," said her mother. "Same as the rest of you. You haven't lost it. It's just gone to sleep a bit early."

"Will it come back?"

"In the morning. Hops always do."

Lulu thought about this. It was a relief, mostly. But there was still the problem of getting home, which was a long way for a kangaroo with no hop.

Her mother solved that. She opened her pouch, the way she had not done for a long time now that Lulu was big, and Lulu climbed in, feet first, which took some arranging, and settled with just her ears sticking out.

"Hold on," said her mother.

Hop, hop, hop. Hop, hop, hop. The dust went by. The gum trees went by. The stars came out one at a time over the top of the pouch, and Lulu watched them bounce up and down, up and down, in time with her mother's big, strong, not-at-all-lost hop.

"Hop," murmured Lulu, from the pouch. "Hop. Hop..."

Flop.

And that one, at last, was the right kind.