Claire came home with a rhyme she learned at school today. Over, and over, and over, and over, and over she sang out (to the tune of "nah-nah-nah-boo-boo") "I'm the king of the castle, [so-and-so]'s a dirty rascal." She did it until I thought my ears would jump right off my head and cover my laser-beam eye balls.
"Don't sing that again, please!" (times 3, because she never listens after just one request)
As we are getting ready for our Bible story, she starts again.
"I'm the king of the castle,
Obama's a dirty rascal!"
Although I had threatened to administer the much-hated corporal punishment for singing that song again, her deep insight left me speechless, but laughing.
Yes, dear. Obama is a dirty rascal (thought, not spoken--we're working on respecting authority).
And, since I haven't posted a SK funny lately:
A picture may not always be worth a thousand words, but this one is worth a few chuckles.
"Don't sing that again, please!" (times 3, because she never listens after just one request)
As we are getting ready for our Bible story, she starts again.
"I'm the king of the castle,
Obama's a dirty rascal!"
Although I had threatened to administer the much-hated corporal punishment for singing that song again, her deep insight left me speechless, but laughing.
Yes, dear. Obama is a dirty rascal (thought, not spoken--we're working on respecting authority).
And, since I haven't posted a SK funny lately:
A picture may not always be worth a thousand words, but this one is worth a few chuckles. 
