Alligator Pie

Alligator Pie

Alligator Pie

Author: Dennis Lee
From:Β Β  Alligator Pie. Toronto: Macmillan, 1974.

Alligator pie, alligator pie,
If I don’t get some I think I’m gonna die.
Give away the green grass, give away the sky,
But don’t give away my alligator pie.

Alligator stew, alligator stew,
If I don’t get some I don’t know what I’ll do.
Give away my furry hat, give away my shoe,
But don’t give away my alligator stew.

Alligator soup, alligator soup,
If I don’t get some I think I’m gonna droop.
Give away my hockey stick, give away my hoop,
But don’t give away my alligator soup.


Although Wikipedia says that most Canadians know that poem, I had never heard of it until I received this video of Emily reciting it during her English Language Art.

As you watch Emily’s video, please remember, this is the same girl that the doctors said would never walk, talk or learn to eat enough to grow properly.

Emily’s Alligator Pie



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Mom, mommy, maman, mother

From time to time I forget! I forget that Emily is different. She’s doing so well on so many levels that I forget…. I forget she’s struggling with so many things still. It doesn’t last long but during those small moments I have less patience and I expect her to behave differently to achieve something, anything….

On some occasions, I will even ignore what she’s telling me because its the 10th time she’s said it and I’m trying to concentrate on something else….

Before I realize that I’m doing this, Emily already knows I’m ignoring her…. She’s perceptive that way!!! πŸ™‚

That’s when she’s developed this new way of getting my attention and it works every single time.

Mom….. Mom….. Mommy….. Mommy….. Maman!…… Maman!!!…..

By the time she gets to maman (French for mom), I am paying attention because I know the exasperated use of “MOTHER!” is coming next…. And I am myself again, smiling and paying attention to my daughter.

The same daughter who wasn’t supposed to talk. That little girl who struggled through so much and who is still struggling. My daughter.

Years ago, I had to come to terms with the fact that she would never call me maman. All the doctors agreed on that!!!

Now, I’m looking at her, remembering that conversation and whatever I needed to do so badly is not that important, my daughter wants to talk to me about her imaginary boyfriend who has a sore throat…. She wants to TALK to me so I should listen and participate as talking to my daughter is a gift beyond anything any doctors believed she would achieved…

Sometimes, I forget to recognize the little gifts I receive on a daily basis… Do you recognize yours?