This year's critter

Sitting on a bench in a visiting area this afternoon, May looks straight ahead and says, "This is this year's colander...no...not that... Critter! This is this year's critter. They've all come out. They're all..." (and here she reaches out with her hands and shakes them back and forth).

"Are you describing something you're seeing?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Right there." She points toward a short table about three feet in front of us. It's surface is made of thin slats with half-inch gaps between them. A potted poinsettia occupies the far end of the table.

"Show me," I say.

She walks to the table and, again waving her hands around, roughs out a shape about the size of a large cat in the space opposite the poinsettia, then sits back down beside me.

"That's this year's critter?" I ask.

"Yes."