An Extra Leg

On Friday after lunch we had art – my favourite. On this particular Friday, once the paper and crayons had been handed out, the teacher announced “You may draw anything you like.” Such freedom was a rare treat. I grabbed a crayon and quickly sketched a dinosaur from memory.
“Ha Ha!” I chuckled to myself noticing that I, in my naive enthusiasm, had drawn an extra leg. My laughter did not escape the teacher’s attention.
“What is this?” she asked, towering above me and extending a long finger towards the extra leg.
“It’s a leg” I replied eager to explain any misunderstanding.
“How many legs does a dinosaur have ?” she asked. The class fell silent.
“I think it depends on the breed,” I ventured diplomatically.
“Don’t be cheeky, just answer the question,” she snapped.
“Well… usually four,” I conceded “but-”.
“Count the ‘legs’ on your dinosaur” she ordered.
“There are five but-” I tried again to explain but she wouldn’t allow it.
“I told you to count them”.
So I dutifully placed a finger on each leg in turn and counted.
“Well?” she said when I had finished, tapping the extra leg “What is this ?” It was hopeless, I knew there was only one answer which would placate here.
“It’s a willy” I lied and wept at the injustice. My tears formed in beads on the waxy surface of the drawing. The teacher smirked triumphantly as she balled the paper in her fist.