There Was an Old Lady. . .

.  . . No, not me. I'm not that old yet, though one of my students guessed this week that I was sixty. (She was a 1st grader, so I'll forgive her.) Anyhow, I walked downstairs this morning and found Nick sitting with my Shel Silverstein book, adding his own words to the pictures.

We've heard a few different versions of this story, but Nick prefers the original morbid one with the line, "Perhaps she'll die." I'm not sure why. (Why he prefers the dying version, not why the old lady died. It seems rather obvious why the old lady died.)

If you couldn't tell from his storytelling, Nick was turning the pages as he sang, adding new verses based on the pictures in my Shel Silverstein poetry book. This went on for a good half hour. I feel bad for that old lady, now that she's consumed the entire contents of Everything On It. This is Nick's last day of being four, so I guess he thought a song was in order. You can't see from the video clip I posted, but Henry kept coming over to peek whenever Nick would sing something really outrageous. Nick s pretty good at outrageous.