Interlude

‘Cause it’s all interlude these days, ’til the little brother exits the barcalounger to end all barcaloungers, his ma’s cushy, plush, fuzzy dice-bedecked womb.

Herewith, the lil’ monkey’s monolog yesterday, for the indulgent parents that find a way to enjoy the Dadaist, stream-of-consciousness ramblings of toddlers:

We’re going in the rain.
It comes down.
And you can swim in it.
And you can sprinkle on it.
And you put little jackets on it.
And you put little sprinkles and the —
You put little —
And you put little socks on your feet. Like this. [As pictured above.]
And you put some blocks in your hand. Like this.
And you put hair on your head.

Ma asks: Does your hair get wet?

Lil’ monkey says: No.

Ma: Your hair doesn’t get wet?

Lil’ monkey: You have to put on a rain hat. And you put on a sweater. Like this. [Again, as pictured above.]

Ma: What do you put on your feet?

Lil monkey: Lotion. You rub it in.
And you put some stain mover on your sweatshirt.
Like this. [See image above.]
And you squeeze it.
You put little —
You swim.
You put little ice cream on your frozen yogurt.
And a little —
And you buy frozen yogurt like this. [Look. Up there.]

I’m done talkin’.

[Can’t find a toddler around the house, but jonesin’ for some more surrealist fun? Get yourself a copy of A Book of Surrealist Games, compiled by Alastair Brotchie.]

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