Mads was looking through one of the books that Grandpa gave her when he came to visit in the Autumn. Along with his three or four items of clothing, he had brought along an entire suitcase of knitted accessories from the ladies at his Senior’s club, and a stack of children’s books that had been on sale at his local public library.
Fascinated by the detailed illustrations in this book of classic nursery rhymes, Mads was leafing through it, bursting into song whenever she recognised a nursery rhyme from the pictures in the book.
She was frowning intently at “What are little boys made of?” and asked me “How does it go again?”, so I came over and read it aloud.
Me: “… slugs and snails and puppy dogs tails, that’s what little boys are made of.”
Mads: “Well, they aren’t really.”
Me: “Erm, no, they aren’t really. The person who wrote the rhyme was just being silly.”
Mads: “Yes, that’s very silly, isn’t it mummy. Boys aren’t made of all those things. Everybody knows they’re made out of bones…. and skin….. and lots of lungs.”
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