You will be staring at me from your changing table. You look eager and happy in your half nakedness. You are wide eyed and waiting for me to do something fun like wave my arms, make a silly face or sing a song. I attempt a song dusting off the memories of my old babysitting days. I begin,
“Where is Thumbkin, where is Thumbkin….here I…blah..da…da…blah…” (PAUSE as I fade out the song not remembering the lyrics…)
You look disappointed. After a moment I confess and give it to you straight,
“Honey, I don’t know where Thumbkin is, ok? And I don’t know the lyrics. Who needs Thumbkin anyway.”
You seem ok with this.
Catching up on your blog – hence the delayed response. Riveting lyrics does not Thumbkin have. Nor is it an easy song to sing when you get to the middle finger (Here I Am!) because suddenly it’s not nice to use that finger again and also, it’s just plain hard to bob it up and down without involving the rest of the song members. Wait til you get to Skip to my Lu (Lou? Loo?) – I HATE the line “I’ll find another prettier than you!” and don’t get me started on poor Rudolph and how the other reindeer loved him AFTER he saved Christmas….
Before Greg Behrendt became a relationship expert and was just a decent comic, he talked about Thumbkin in regards to how he was going to teach his daughter to appreciate The Greats like Black Sabbath. Moral of the story: Thumbkin IS a baby’s Freebird.
Welcome to Motherhood!