Rocky Goes to Madrid

I've got another confession, Sofia.

You know how I live under your bed and I'm very serious and very wise?

Well. When you play Shakira, I dance.

Not a little bit. A lot. My tail goes left. My tail goes right. My tail goes round and round like a washing machine. Once I knocked over a whole box of Lego and you thought it was the cat.

It wasn't the cat.

Her song says hips don't lie. Well, tails don't lie either.

I love Shakira more than I love sunbathing, and I really love sunbathing.

One night I heard your dad say: "Shakira is playing a concert in Madrid."

Madrid! That's in Spain. Spain is hot. Crocodiles love hot.

Now, here's the problem. You need a ticket. And to get a ticket, you have to read a website. And you know I can't read. The letters just sit there like ants that won't line up.

So I did what I always do. I used pictures instead.

I made a sign to hold up at the concert, too. I couldn't spell "Shakira, I love you", so I drew a big heart and a little crocodile. I think that's better anyway.

Everybody understands a heart.

I climbed into a suitcase. It was a bit squashed. I had to fold my tail three times.

The suitcase went on a plane. The plane went up into the clouds. I was a bit scared, so I hummed Waka Waka very quietly until I felt better.

When the suitcase opened, I smelled something amazing.

Churros. Hot sugary churros with thick chocolate for dipping.

I had eleven. A crocodile has to keep his strength up.

Then I walked through Madrid in my sunglasses saying "¡Hola!" to everyone. Some people said hola back. One man dropped his ice cream. Most people just thought I was somebody in a very good crocodile costume.

That was going to be useful.

The stadium was the biggest place I've ever seen. Bigger than a swamp. Bigger than a hundred swamps.

The man at the gate looked at me. I looked at him. He said, "Nice costume," and let me in.

I didn't say anything. Crocodiles know when to keep their mouths shut. It's mostly when there are teeth in them.

Then the lights went down. Thousands and thousands of people went quiet, all at once, like the whole world was holding its breath.

And then: BOOM. Lights. Music. And there she was, a tiny sparkly person on a giant stage, far, far away.

I danced. Oh, I danced. My tail went left, my tail went right, and my tail went round and round. I knocked over a man's popcorn, but he was dancing too, so he didn't mind.

When everybody sang Waka Waka together, thousands of people, in lots of different languages, all singing the same song, I got a funny feeling in my chest. A good one. Like the sun was inside me.

I don't know if Shakira saw me in the crowd. But I waved anyway. Just in case.

I got back under your bed just as the sun came up. Squashed suitcase. Plane. Bed. Nobody knew.

Well. Almost nobody.

Remember the little piece of shiny gold confetti on your carpet that you couldn't explain?

That was me. It was stuck to my tail.

Here's what I learned in Madrid, Sofia. I can't read a ticket website. I can't spell "I love you" on a sign. But I got all the way to Spain with a picture plan, I said hello in Spanish, and I danced with thousands of people. You don't need to read words to understand music. Music goes straight in.

And next time? I'll ask first. And I'll bring you.

— Rocky 🐊💃