crawl/crawling/crawled

When Harry Osborn was 8, he had a stuffed animal. It was apparently from his mother. It wasn’t anything really special. It had been an elephant, not any bigger than his head, but it was soft and it was HIS, and that was all that had mattered. He was 8, and top of his class, and the biggest pleasure to have in class his teachers had ever had, and he hated it. He hated the books they read in class and hated the stupid group circle discussions they made him sit in. He hated the kids he went to school with. The only thing Harry really liked had been that elephant. Harry named it Max, like elephas maximus, because he thought it was sad no one cared about Asian elephants.