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Ink Spink Spattle Spew

I am chuckling at the fact I actually Googled that phrase and not surprised Google could not find it, returning only this message:

It looks like there aren’t any great matches for your search

This was a counting rhyme my grandfather often said to me, the words were counted out with a finger pointing back and forth between the two of us. Being so young, I never knew why the rhyme always ended with his finger pointing at me.

INK, SPINK, SPATTLE, SPEW
NOBODY STINKS BUT BARELY YOU

I just remember sitting on his lap, facing this kind white haired gentle giant as we played this out so many times. I can still see his large hands, twisted with age and hard work, extended to me as gentle as a lamb.

I could not do SoCS this morning. I could not make the words form in my mind. All I could think about was the image of me sitting on my grandfather’s knee, playing this rhyming game, giggling little girl giggles — a warm and beautiful way to slip away into kindness on this Saturday.

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My Grandfather seated with my sister, Rosie

 

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