I think it comes with being a grandma, a Dori as my grands would say.
So since I'm feeling silly, here's a poem for Poetry Friday that's in just the right mood.
The True History of the Cat and the Fiddle
(from At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald)
Hey, diddle, diddle!
The cat and the fiddle!
He played such a merry tune,
That the cow went mad
With the pleasure she had,
And jumped right over the moon.
But then, don't you see?
Before that could be,
The moon had come down and listened.
The little dog hearkened,
So loud that he barkened,
"There's nothing like it, there isn't."
Hey, diddle, diddle!
Went the cat and the fiddle,
Hey diddle, diddle, dee, dee!
The dog laughed at the sport
Till his cough cut him short,
It was hey diddle, diddle, oh me!
And back came the cow
With a merry, merry low,
For she'd humbled the man in the moon.
The dish got excited,
The spoon was delighted,
And the dish waltzed away with the spoon.
But the man in the moon,
Coming back too soon,
From the famous town of Norwich,
Caught up the dish,
Said, "It's just what I wish
To hold my cold plum-porridge!"
Gave the cow a rat-tat,
Flung water on the cat,
And sent him away like a rocket.
Said, "O Moon there you are!"
Got into her car,
And went off with the spoon in his pocket.
Hey ho! diddle, diddle!
The wet cat and wet fiddle,
The made such a caterwauling,
That the cow in a fright
Stood bolt upright
Bellowing now, and bawling;
And the dog on his tail,
Stretched his neck with a wail.
But "Ho! Ho!" said the man in the moon--
"No more in the South
Shall I burn my mouth,
For I've found a dish and a spoon."
More Poetry Friday with Amy at the Poem Farm.
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