The boy sat at the kitchen table
Fingers all a-quiver
The Hama beads keep pinging off
Let's throw them in the river
Oh, the bad poetry. I just can't help myself.
Hey, when you are up half the night with a hurling child, intent on re-decorating the landing carpet, you're allowed a little artistic leeway. And the Hama beads? Well, you don't think I was letting him near any actual food do you? I figured ironing them together probably kills all known germs too.