Sausage Hands (I had to write this down.)

This is another Beastie story. I know, you're probably sick of hearing about my hilarious little Beastie but I had to write this one down.

A few weeks ago - before Monkey was born - I was lying in bed, reading, when Beastie came wandering into the room with a bunch of bowls and cups and things. Her favorite game is "food," where she makes me all kinds of delicious food and I eat it. Usually we eat ice cream and cereal and fries. Her favorite part is pretending to hand me a fork and a spoon. That's my favorite part too, because she mispronounces them into naughty words - fuck and poon. (I guess that's my inner 14 year old boy speaking.)

So we played this food game for a little while, and then I asked her to go play food with her sisters because I was feeling a little tired. She didn't, but she also didn't seem to mind that I picked up my book and started reading again.

That's when I noticed her singing.

She was putting her hands in an empty bowl and wringing them around, like she was kneading bread, and singing in a little sing-song voice: "I got my hands in you sausage. I got my hands in you saaaaauuuusage. I got my haaaaands. In yooooouuuu. Saaaaaauuuuusage."

"What did you say?" I asked.

She looked at me sideways and said "I got my hands in you sausage. See?" She held her hands up, but I could barely see because I was laughing so hard I was crying.