My favourite mail

A post office box full of werewolves? Yes, please.

Every now and then, a lovely sparkly teacher will take a roomful of giggling first-graders—fresh after I've left, hoarse and growling my way back down the hall to the school parking lot—and say Okay kiddos. You like poems about zombies and aliens and sea monsters? Let's make our own! What's it gonna be? And the kids shout CYCLOPS! or YETI! and they upturn a box of crayons and off they go.

I've gotten piles of paper held into a bundle with paperclips, elastic bands, scotch tape. Even once, a 6-foot-high thank-you banner to hang in my house. It's like monster Christmas morning! See? Silly werewolves. Big-hearted werewolves. Werewolves eating doughnuts. Regular kids, imagining regular life in irregularly power-full, growly ways. Funny, big-smiling stuff.

Look at me! I am BIG. I am NOT LITTLE. GRRRR! HA HA!

 I am a WEREWOLF! And THE SUN! RAINBOW WEREWOLF!

Thanks, kids. And teachers—keep growling. Keep nudging those little beasts. We love you so much for all those nudges.