It seems I was born without the nursery rhyme gene… you know the one that means you remember all of the songs and rhymes you were sung as a child? Yeah, that one. Looking back, I should probably have scratched up on them when I found out that I was pregnant, but I was too busy breaking out in hives at the thought of labour. I digress.
Up until now, it’s not been too much of an issue, Bells seems more than happy with my nursery rhyme medley, piecing together the few bits I know from each one to make a remix…. that or if she’s really lucky my rendition of “I like big butts” complete with dance moves.
However, without thinking, I found myself at a baby class last week, singing along whole heartedly to “English country garden”.
What do you do
If you want to do a poo
In an English country garden?
Pull down your pants
And suffocate the ants
In an English country garden
Fah la la la
Turns out those aren’t the words. More worryingly, I didn’t even twig there was anything wrong until one of the other mothers highlighted it to me. So I guess we know what my homework is going to be this week….