My children love to play with rhymes. They play the ‘rhyme game’ as often and as spontaneously as ‘I spy’ (which in our house is endless).
In case you aren’t familiar, our version involves someone yelling out a word. Then, everyone has to find another word that rhymes with it. Generally, we go on and on until many have been repeated. (Unless the word is something like “lasagna.” In which case, “Kenya” is the only answer and we all call ‘pass’ and the giggling is contagious). Then, the next person has a turn.
On Saturday, all five of us were enjoying the game as we prepared dinner. After deciding peppermint rhymed with government, I thought we needed to get back to basics.
“Floor!” I called.
“What happens when you rub your elbow on bricks?” my husband said helpfully.
“How many fingers?” he helped again.
“Whore!” Andrew called.
There was a little pause here.
“What does THAT mean?” I asked shaking my head (as if it wasn’t even a word).
“You know, like a scary movie.”
“Oh, a horr-or film?” I helped.
“Oh, yes,” he agreed, “Horr-OR.”
“Core!” the game continued.
“What does a donkey say?” my husband continued cheerfully.
And, Gladys dutifully replied, “Baa!”
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