Diddle, Diddle, Dumpling, My Son John

Raise your hand if you’ve ever lost your street pants and ONE shoe while at hockey practice. What’s that? Not a lot of hands out there? Oh, so it’s just my son then. Good. Maybe hockey players will tell me that it’s more common than one might think. I’d ask my husband (the hockey player) but he’s at a hockey game.

What to do when you find you are the last one in the locker room and you have no pants and only one shoe? Well, if you’re my son, you put on your jock shorts (cup removed, naturally) because that’s basically half a step up from the boxer briefs you’re trying to hide. And you put on your one shoe and hope for the best. Then you sigh a huge sigh of relief that you’re by the back door and don’t have to go through the arena (where there’s a girls’ game going on) and the fairly packed lobby. Then, if you’re really lucky, you can lurk in the shadows while your mom goes to the other side of the building to get the van and comes to pick you up.

Yep. Good times.

Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his stockings on.
One shoe off and one shoe on;
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John.
 

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About perfectday

There is always something bumping around in my head, and if I leave it up there, I will go crazy. So I try to get my thoughts out onto paper (or the current equivalent). Mostly this blog is just for me to keep my sanity, but I also hope there's a nugget or two in there that other people find worth reading.
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