It's my job as a mom to teach my kids the basics. Stuff like how to pick up after themselves, how to pour milk over cereal prepare a meal so they don't starve to death, how to tie their shoes, how to pray. I'm also their source of cultural knowledge, bringing them places, reading them stories, singing them songs. Sometimes, for a special treat, I teach them the stuff I learned when I was little. One night in the car I taught them this song:
My baby fell out the window
We thought her head would be split.
But that day good fortune was with her
And she fell in a pile of
Shhhhhhhhhhaving cream.
Feel nice and clean
Shave every day and you'll always feel clean.
You people out there in the audience
You've very nice places to sit
But all they gave me here to sit on
Is a great big 'ol pile of
Shhhhhhhhhhaving cream.
Feel nice and clean
Shave every day and you'll always feel clean.
I've taught them a variety of jokes and sayings, including my impressive repertoire of "What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a _______?" jokes. (I know over 20 of them--in a pot, on the floor, in a hole, in a lake, on the wall...)
I've taught the boys jump rope rhymes, how to play all sorts of games from cat's cradle to cribbage, and even this cheer that I learned when I was in 3rd grade:
Strawberry shortcake, banana split
We think your team's a pile of
Shhhhhift to the left!
Shift to the right!
Stand up, sit down FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!
(Totally awesome cheerleader motions optional.)
Last week we were driving home from the dojo in the dark. A car came towards us and I noticed it had one headlight. Flashback to my teen years:
We used to drive around at night looking for beer parties something fun to do and we were fond of punching each other in the arm every time we saw a VW Beetle (Slugbug red!) or a car with one headlight burned out (Pididdle!). Back in the 80's there must have been a lot of burned out headlights because I almost always had a sore arm. Then, for the longest time, I never noticed any "pididdles." That may have something to do with how often I drove around at nighttime or improved LED technology or even a better economy. Anyway, of late, I've seen more cars with one headlight and Mr. B happened to be sitting next to me so I lightly socked him in the arm and said "Pididdle!"
Mr. B turned to me. "What was that for?"
"I saw a car with one headlight. If you see a car with one headlight you're supposed to yell 'Pididdle' and punch them in the arm. Kind of like 'Slugbug.' It's a car game."
"What's 'pididdle' mean?"
"I don't know. 'Car with one headlight' I guess."
"Oh."
A couple minutes later, he reaches over and punches me. "Pididdle." There are no other cars on the road.
"Where do you see it?" I ask him.
"Well, the one from before."
"It doesn't work that way. You can only say one 'pididdle' per vehicle. First one claims it. Otherwise you'd just be punching each other all night."
"Oh."
A little later we're coming into town and he hits me again. "Pididdle!"
I crane my neck and look around. "Where do you see it?"
"Behind us! See? You can only see one headlight!"
I look in my rear view mirror. "That car has two headlights."
"But you can only see one because it's behind another car."
"That doesn't count. It has to be an actual car with an actual burned out head--you know what? Forget it. It shouldn't be this complicated. No more pididdle."
"Pididdle!" Punch. "Pididdle!" Punch. "Pididdle!" Punch. "I like this game, mom!"
Spill it, reader. What necessary cultural knowledge and wisdom do you try to impart? And are your kids as thick as mine?
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