I read this lovely post by Chelle McCann yesterday: Memories and it reminded me of a rhyme that mum made up for me.
A rhyme just for me.
That my mum used to recite whilst tracing circles on my upturned palm and then she would tickle me under the armpit.
I loved that I had my very own rhyme. It was special. It was mine and my mum’s.
I heard Mr B sing it. My head shot round like an owl who has heard a mouse.
“Where did you get that from?” I shouted at him. “Only my mum and I know that story”.
“Don’t be ridiculous” he said. “It’s Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear. Everybody knows it”
I was 41.