If you give a crab a mushroom, he’ll let it fall to the ground. If you give a crab another mushroom he’ll let you drop it again. If you hand a crab a mushroom directly into his claw he’ll pinch it, and then back himself into a corner and use it as a shield to protect himself against you. You’ll say, Silly crab, that little slice of mushroom is barely big enough to be a crab-sized hat. And then he’ll play peek-a-boo from behind his mushroom shield and wait for you to be gone.

If you let a crab spend the night in your bathtub he’ll try to eat the leftover sliver from a bar of soap. Then he’ll pull out the hair catcher in the drain. If you let him pull out the hair catcher then he’ll pull all the hair out of it, scavenging for something to eat that isn’t mushrooms. (Because mushrooms are only good for shields of course). In the morning you’ll have one trash-ready hairball and one squeaky clean hair catcher. You’ll say, Thank-you, crab. Guests who leave the place tidier than they found it are always welcome.

If you release a crab onto your roof he’ll scurry over to the edge and then hang perilously by one leg off the ledge. If you ask him how he can support such a big body by one skinny little leg, he’ll make a show of it and scurry sideways along the roof with only one leg hanging onto the edge. If you tell a crab, Wait, don’t go! He’ll do just that and scurry away forever.

Obviously I read If You Give a Moose a Muffin a few too many times when I was little.