bibliophile in the nursery-the horror of the twentyfirst sentry

My favorite conversation of the day started as I saw G teetering on his trike-bike.
"Cuidado. You don't want to fall."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because then you could fall." (And I've seen you fall just like that five times)
"Then what?"
"Then you would be hurt?"
"Then what?"
"Then you would be unhappy."
"Then what?"
"Then the world would end."
"Then would you tell my frie-would you tell all my friends?"
"Yes, I'd tell all your friends that the world had ended."

I should have thought CUIDADO as I signed up for this writing writing writing frenchy class. I no longer have fear of the french lady who teaches me. She doesn't look at me as if I am a repulsive alien when I speak french as some frenchies will. I do have A-nnoyance because she insists I visit my arch-nemesis at the frenchy writing lab. France is being a difficult spouse that you think you might have to divorce. There is no comprendre going on anywhere. Germany has jumped on their back and offered them good German beer and I'm sitting in a pile of half-eaten granola bars from babies. Tomorrow I seek out a marriage counselor. And since France won't let me in, I'm preparing a french speech to ask France to come to Canada, you know, meet half way and add in spice.

Yesterday I found a dreamy little nursery rhyme I'd never heard before:

If all the world were paper,
And all the sea were ink,
If all the trees
Were bread and cheese,
What should we have to drink?