My middle daughter was a whiz-bang, for lack of a better word. She would get herself into a swivet, wanting something and then deciding I didn’t want her to have it. She pulled that stunt one night, wanting a drink and then rejecting it when I handed it to her. I am not my best at 2 AM, and you really can’t reason with a cranky 3-year-old (or a sleep deprived Mum, for that matter), and after five minutes of this back-and-forth nonsense I ended up throwing the water at her. Of course, I was the one who had to change her bed and her PJs, but she never pulled that particular stunt again.
My grandfather taught me several verses of Inky-Dinky, Parlez Vous. One year I tried out for a part in the school operetta and when asked what I wanted to sing, I asked for that song. The music teacher looked uneasy and plinked out the tune on the piano. “That one?” Yes, ma’am. Apparently, he didn’t teach me all of the verses.
A fellow in our parish gives the rector a fancy Lego kit for Christmas every year. Last year in was the Titanic, and this year was Notre Dame. Talk about fancy!
Little Marie went over the top/because she heard a nickel drop. That’s all I knew.
I also know most of the verses to Bird in a Gilded Cage.