When I was growing up, my father would put a record on during dinner and quiz my sister and me with the challenge to ‘name that piece’. I usually won, but one time, out of sheer frustration, my sister gave the piece a new name, claiming the answer could also include a new name because our father didn’t specifically ask for what the composer named it. She won that time.
I once bought my wife a bunch of LPs for Christmas, used some carboard and created a triangle out of the albums and the cardboard. She never guessed what the gift was. Lot of work, but worth it…
Reminds me of the time my wife’s grandfather was trying to put a jigsaw puzzle together and was stuck trying to find one piece. He swore the piece was missing, and he and his wife tore the living room apart looking for it. He wouldn’t go any further until he found that piece. My wife and I walked in and, after her grandparents described the problem, I looked at the board, found the piece and put it in the puzzle. I thought he was going to shoot me.
Reminds me of our daughter as a toddler. For some reason, she called a spoon a ‘foop’. On one visit to my parents, my father decided to get her to say “spoon”. They sat at the dinner table, where my father told Kathy to say “sp”. Kathy complied; they repeated that about 10 times. Then my father had her say “oon”, and they repeated that about 10 times. At last, my father had her say “spoon”, which she did, again repeating that about 10 times. He then held up a spoon and asked her what it was. Her response? “Foop” He gave up.
When she was about 3 or 4, our daughter called a spoon a ‘foop’. No idea where that came from, but my father tried to get her to say ‘spoon’ by constantly having her repeat the sounds ‘sp’ and ‘oon’. When he showed her a spoon, and asked her what it was, she said ‘a foop’. He gave up.
Interesting. Bernice’s ring tone appears to be the opening motif of Beethoven’s 5th symphony…