Harry Floppins

Lately, I've been getting my kids to do things by using rhyming words to remind them of fogotten jobs. It goes something like this:

"Jack, did you forget to do something?"

Jack gives the 'am I in trouble' look, then says, "I don't think so. Do you think so?"

I think, "Yeah, the same thing you forget 90 percent of the time."

But I say, "It rhymes with 'smear your face.'" I say this with a hopefully sugary enough tone to hide my irritable demeanor.

"Oh!" he says. "Huh he huh......clear my place!" And away his curly blond self goes to do the job, still smiling. He thinks I'm funny. I think I am clever. It is a win-win situation.

I want to choose my battles, and this tactic has served me well, although, today I wonder whether I need to retire it.

I guess I am growing more complacent about the joys of motherhood, or maybe I've just been in the trenches for too long without a breath of fresh air, because I can tell that lately, I'm sort of carrying things a bit too far, and am becoming far too Seuss-ly for my own good. I've always teased my kids by singing rhyming nonsense while we do stuff. I like to get them going.

Today, I asked Maya what cd she was going to listen to at bedtime. She opted for an old classic from her preschool days. Upon hearing the first strains of "Feed the Birds," I said, "Oh! This one rhymes with Harry Floppins."

Right after I said it, of course, I decided that at worst, my word choice was a possible Freudian slip, and at best, was a bit off-color.

Luckily, Maya and I share a similar sense of humor.

"Practically perfect in ev-er-y wayy," she grunted. The voice she used WAS practically perfect. I imagine Harry Floppins might sound just like she did. (Picture a Jersey accent coupled with a low, nasal, gaseous quality used mostly by actors portraying children's television villains). Oscar the Grouch meets Joe Pesci's famous, yet nameless? Home-Alone character.

I can only imagine the Harry Floppins sketches we can produce one day. Move over, Sherry Bobbins.

On a totally unrelated note, and for documentary purposes only, it is now 9:30 p.m. Nolan and Curious George are still wrestling and playing in his crib, and bless his heart, he's trying to sing the Indiana Jones theme song.

I need to set up a hidden camera investigation, because, clearly, I am missing something really great in there between the tucking-in and the waking up.