Please don’t ask me about Georgie Porgie or the Mulberry Bush. I’m clueless when it comes to nursery rhymes. Craig takes some sadistic joy in this ignorance and likes to test me (to his own detriment really):
“Okay, Jack Sprat could eat no fat/His wife could eat no…..?”
“I don’t know. His wife could eat no rat? Could eat no cat?”
“Lean? That doesn’t even rhyme.”
I have an excuse, of course. I lived in Spain ’til I was 8 (ha! the mom “from La Mancha”!). Sad thing is, don’t have much memory of Spanish kids rhymes either. I think there’s one with a hand gesture and some chickens. I forget now.
But I now have a solution. Because books are my friends, and this one’s my new bestest one:
So in a week, I’ll be able to tell you all about tiskets & taskets, piggie toes and skipping to my loo. I have a feeling it’s not about the potty…