February 9th, 2007

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Poetry Friday: Skipping Rope

 
This morning I picked up a new jump-rope for my youngest, as a birthday surprise.
 
She turns six in just a few days, which makes her old enough to skip, hop and jump; count past 100 ; and rhyme in time. All of which makes me trip over the lump in my throat.
 
There’s just something about six that is so… kid-like. Y’know?
 
She moves around these days in a mighty body. She plunks her feet on her handlebars and steers her bike downhill. She performs acrobats on her bunkbed ladder. At school, her only disappointment is when a swing isn’t available at recess.
 
Meanwhile, clever witticisms burst forth like little exhales. Her dad and sister and I are her happy, captive audience and granted, we’re biased, but she’s funny!
 
Thus, the jump-rope – the perfect synthesis of physical vigor and brainy vim.
 
Here are a few skipping rope rhymes to get her started. She can make up the rest herself. Sigh.
 
 
Red hot pepper 
in the pot –
gotta get over 
what the leader’s got.
10… 20… 30… 40 .....
 
 
Two little dickie birds sittin' on the wall
One named Peter, one named Paul
Fly away, Peter, fly away, Paul
Don't you come back 'till your birthday's called 
January...February...March…
Fly away, fly away, fly away all.
 
 
Raspberry, strawberry, apple jam tart.
Tell me the name of your sweet heart.
A… B… C…
Ice-cream soda, lemonade punch.
What is the name of your honeybunch?
A… B… C…
 
 
I might just have to give that rope a whirl myself. 
See if I can get all the way to W, in honor of the birthday girl. 
Happy Birthday, Honeybunch.