Childish Humor
Scott Mclean
Today’s missive touches on the weird things we do to entertain small kids and some of the odd senses of humor our families exhibited. So it’s going to jump around.
My Dad would fold his hand into a fist but leave the thumb and little fingers sticking out. No, he wasn’t a Texas Longhorns fan making the hook em horns sign and he wasn’t into heavy metal. Not that I knew of anyway.
Maybe an Ozzie cassette under his truck seat? Anyway back to the story.
He would move his hand like a bee flying towards you while he did his rhyme or song. It went like this.
The bumblebee came out of the barn with a sack of peanuts under his arm going bzzzzzz.
He would tickle you during the buzzing part.
In later years I wondered if bumblebees even had arms and if so, what were they doing with a sack of peanuts?
In any case, my kids found it entertaining as toddlers as well.
My Grandpa Sorenson would bounce a little one on his knee while singing a Norwegian kids song. Don’t remember anything but the line that ended every verse.
Bum frilly bum frilly bump bump bump.
It may well have entertained Grandpa more than the child but babies seemed to like it.
Dad, Steve, and I were in the habit of putting different words to existing songs. My mother in law would sing German songs to the kids. One went du du machs me in liebe. Basically you you make me in love.
Of course my version was a bit different.
Doo doo muskrats and liver.
They found my version entertaining but their Oma was not as amused when one of the boys sang it.
Another rather rude habit was using flatulence as a joke or weapon. My Uncles Stan and Gale were masters at it. They were good at crop dusting where you quickly walk through an area while releasing gas so someone else gets blamed.
When I had my first knee surgery it was still the days of full casts. I had just got home and Mom had me lay on the couch. Steve offered to move my crutches out of the way and that should have raised suspicions. With me unable to move now, he farted and threw a blanket over my head and held it down. While gagging, I threatened to beat him with my crutches when I got up.
My parents and Mom’s family played a lot of pinochle and other card games. Stan and Wanda had a Boston bull terrier that was notorious for passing gas under the card table. Everyone would holler and the dog would run.
One time either Stan or Gale let one slip and when everyone complained the poor dog ran out, terrified that it would be blamed.
A prevalent trait among males of our species is that no matter your age, when it comes to fart jokes you’re eleven. Bye now.