We have started Milo out on the journey to technological dependencies so he doesn’t feel left out of the family addiction. This morning he was playing some great music from the Boola and Kwala website. His loving father commented that it sounded like some of the songs from my warped childhood. This is what started our nursery repertoire comparison:
He knew “Jesus Loves Me”
I knew “A Cannibal King”
He knew “Kumbaya”
I knew “Comet it makes you vomit”
He knew “Father Abraham”
I knew “I’m a Little Villain”
But I couldn’t remember the words to the villain song so I called the family. My mom sang it too me:
I’m a little villain,
A rotten little villain,
I put arsenic in my Grandma’s wheaties,
Her wheaties, her wheaties.
And I beat little kids
On their heads ‘til they’re dead
And I eat raw meat
And I like it.
oh. ok, thanks?
Maybe there was a reason I couldn’t remember the words….
repressed memory ( ) n. A memory that is repressed because of the anxiety it engenders.
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