This is not ANOTHER book review.  I swear.  Quite the opposite in fact. ColtonColton aka: Moose, Duece, Colt, CJ
Age: 3
Favorite Word: Fart
Hobbies:  Playing in the dirt, setting off fire alarms at preschool and bossing people around.
Best Qualities:  The sweetest disposition this side of the Mississippi. asked me to read him to him this morning and I am BORED senseless with his books, so I pulled an old one off the bookshelf and dusted it off. 

I have no idea where this book came from.  Perhaps the Grim Reaper stopped by one evening and when no one answered the door, he quietly left it on our doorstep.

The book is called The Real Mother Goose and is filled with outdated rhymes that make absolutely no sense.  I don’t want to give anything away here, but apparently The Real Mother Goose was a SADIST who lived to frighten small children.  Just look at her face on the cover of the book.  Frightening.

Having no idea what I was in for, I told Colt he could pick three rhymes.  Below are the rhymes I read him. You know when your kids are little and they want to sleep in your bed and people tell you, “Just enjoy it.  He won’t be sleeping in your bed when he’s sixteen.”  He might be now.

His first choice:

JERRY HALL
Jerry Hall, he was so small,
A rat could eat him, hat and all.

His second choice:

CRY, BABY
Cry, baby, cry
Put your finger in your eye,
And tell your mother it wasn’t I.

His third choice and this one takes the cake:

A LITTLE MAN
There was a little man, and he had
    a little gun,
And his bullets were made of
    lead, lead, lead

(It was at this point that I quickly began scanning the next lines before I read them.)

He went to the brook, and saw a
    little duck,

(Seeing the next line, I said, “And that’s the end.”  This is how it really ended.)

And shot it right through the
    head, head, head.

No wonder kids used to fear their parents.  It had nothing to do with the paddle or respect.  OH NO. It was clearly the bedtime story.