Charlie and I took a break from Green Eggs and Ham last night, and chose a book of Mother Goose rhymes for bedtime. Most of the verses are shorter and more pointless than I remember, but “Old King Cole” is an interesting one:
Old King Cole is a merry old soul,
and a merry old soul is he.
He called for his pipe.
He called for his bowl.
And he called for his fiddlers three.
So it's stoned King Cole sitting back in a very good mood and listening to some tunes. Now I know why my mom never answered me when I was young and asked her why he called for a bowl.
I remember reading "Goldilocks and the Three Bears" to Ella for the first time and being absolutely floored by what a terrible story that is. A blond girl breaks into a house and eats the inhabitants' food, breaks their shit and sleeps in their bed. Then they come home and she leaves never to be seen again? What the @#%@ is that? Now when I read it to her, I explain that Goldilocks is a dangerous crystal meth addict.