One little monkey sitting in a tree
Said hey, Mr. Alligator, can't catch me!
Along came the alligator, looked up in the tree.
SNAP!
No more monkeys sitting in the tree.
Our playground at the shelter is pretty Darwinian and the preschoolers love to play.
I am regularly in pursuit of kids who turn themselves into broccoli in order to attract a broccoli-eating monster, and I have a steady line of those who want to be rock-a-bye-babied in order to have their cradle F-A-L-L-L-L from the treetops.
Today, I was also busy giving shoulder rides while simultaneously snapping monkeys off the playground equipment.
One time when the alligator came around, two girls were in a dispute over whose turn it was to get snapped. One insisted the other had slipped in front of her while I was away. The other denied it.
I had a hunch who was telling the truth, but being more than just a playground alligator I told them: I don't know who to believe and I don't like it when people lie to me. So you two work it out between yourselves who should go first. Until you do, nobody gets snapped.
I went on with the shoulder rides. Twice, I came back.
Have you worked it out?
Yes, said one. No, said the other.
I'm not going to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourselves, I said.
The third time I came, they had settled the disagreement. What did you do, I asked.
I said, I'm sorry, said one girl. I said, I'm sorry, said the other.
SNAP! SNAP!
No more monkeys sitting in the tree.
I came upon two boys fighting.
What happened, I asked. (I never count on getting a straight story.)
He hit me, cried one boy.
Why did you hit him, I asked.
Because he was going to hit me, the boy said.
That isn't a reason to hit someone. Use your words instead. We don't hit on this playground. And don't expect a shoulder ride if you hit people.
What do those Sergeants at Arms do at the capitols, anyway? I think they should come by for training.
