When you take Sam Peckinpah to Brownies camp.

So Daughter L. was sitting on the toilet this afternoon and I was across the hall in my office. Daughter L. was taking her time and, as she often does, as she sat she began to sing. She began to sing some variation on "The Green Grass Grew All Around," though, as she often does, she began to make up her own lyrics to the song. And as is so often the case nowadays, her lyrics took this strangely kinetic and violent turn, with a monster in the tree and being trapped on the monster, the biggest monster that you ever did see, and you have to kill the monster, with a kick and a gun, and the green grass grew all around, all around, etc.

"Honey," I called across the hall, "I'm not sure I like this version of the song. It seems like there's an awful lot of hitting and kicking and dying."

"And shooting!" she added brightly. "Don't forget the shooting!"

Comments

[frog]

The little Episcopalian kids aren't singing about death and kicking and guns. Miss Jeri would never have it.

I'm just saying. :)

[bitchphd]

Boys just love the shooting, don't they?

Oh wait, she's not a boy! Yet another gender stereotype shattered. :)

[o.girl]

my three-yr-old has been telling me the monsters tell her to do things like have snacks and scream at the top of her lungs. i guess as long as they don't tell her to fling herself off the nearest bridge it's not too bad.
found your site through others and have enjoyed this hour long browse while i'm (ahem) working. will definitely be back!