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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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16 thoughts on “Ink Spink Spattle Spew”

  1. I have similar memories of my grandfather, Maggie. He tapped me on the forehead and said, “Rooster.” Then he tapped my nose and said “Pullet,” and then tapped my chin and said, “Hen.” Afterward, he tapped my nose and asked, “What is this?” I answered, “Pullet.” Then he pulled my nose and hugged me. I loved that man!

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  2. I had never heard of this rhyme, but similar ones also take me back to childhood. My grandfather was not as affectionate as yours, but I have good memories of him, nonetheless.
    Best wishes, Pete.

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