Tidbits

We were reading nursery rhymes at bedtime last night and Sis always ask's for "Tom, Tom the Piper's Son" (right after "Wee Willie Winkie").


Tom, Tom, the piper's son,
Stole a pig, and away did run.
The pig was eat,
And Tom was beat,
And Tom went crying
Down the street.

I don't like this one particularly because of the eating of the pig (which I just read on Wikipedia is probably a pastry not a live animal)--there's even a cartoon of a pig! And then there's the beating. Well, last night, Sis asked me what a beating was. And I said it was like spanking. In unison, they both asked what that was. So, I explained that parents used to hit their children's bums when they were in trouble, instead of sending them to timeout (no sense telling them that this is still around, because it's not in our house). They thought this was very funny, obviously confusing "hit" with "pat" or the like, because then they proceeded to spank themselves and laugh hysterically. Maybe that's why kids love the Brothers Grimm and other gruesome tales, while today's PC parents cringe. I have to remember the humor. Right?

So, if the kids start talk about being beaten at home, you'll know where it comes from.

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"Willaby, Wallaby Woo
An elephant sat on you.
Willaby, Wallay Wee
An elephant sat on me."

This has been one of the kids' favorite songs for days now. And they change the "woo" each time to rhyme with someone the know--"Wama," "Wommy," "Wis," "Wuddy," and the like. And it goes on and on and on and on. The other day we ran out of real people and moved into tv--"Wiego," "Wora," "Waillou," and Sis's personal favorite "Wuper Why." We've even done Shirt, loveys, and other animals. "Welephant" gets a lot of giggles. Except when they have to ask me, "how do you rhyme elephant?" Because I think they only sorta get that we're putting "Ws" in front of words. And I think that might make it even funnier.

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We have a magic window in our house. Did you know? It's the one in the playroom overlooking the backyard, behind the couch. And if you talk at it, or sing, or play an instrument, or the like, the sounds go straight to a particular house in Texas. It started with a phone call with Gommie, when she and the kids exchanged her signature "smacky kisses." At some point during the call, it morphed into the kisses were travelling out the special window straight to her, and not via the phone. But now, even when we're not on the phone, the kids will go to the window and send her things like songs or kisses. I hope you're getting them all, Gommie!

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Bud is on a dinosaur kick. Again. This time it's dinosaur songs. Sure, Laurie Berkner's "We are the Dinosaurs," and one I know from Girl Scout camp entitled "Me and My Dinosaur" ("I've never had such a friend before/as big as a house/twenty times and a half/and fifty times taller than any giraffe/legs as long as sequoia trees/teeth as big as piano keys/no two people are buddies more/than me and my dinosaur"). But the one I should never have sung? "Walk the dinosaur." It's been an endless round of "boom-boom-acka-lacka-lacka-boom." The best part is, though, that he picks up his little echo-mike and makes up his own songs about loving dinosaurs, listing all the different ones.

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We've been reading The Kissing Hand some recently (our nightly books go in phases of about 3-5 days and then switch). And as we read it, we act out the unfurling of fingers, kissing of palms, and placing of kissed hand on cheek. Then the other day at dinner, out of nowhere, Bud asked for my hand and did the same thing. Soon we were all exchanging kissing hands. Maybe we should read this every night instead of those nursery rhymes!