The very small rhino liked to travel along human roads. “But you are not a person,” said mother rhino, shaking her head. “We have our roads; they are not made of concrete.”
But the very small rhino did not care. He liked the feel of firm ground beneath his feet, and the warm stickiness of the tarmac under the sun; more than anything he liked the attention from passing families, who would park their cars and gasp and gawp as he skipped along the yellow lines.
Mother rhino followed, shaking her head. She had not intended to raise a show-off.