CC photo by inazakira
I went into the office for about an hour and a half tonight. When I came back, my wife was writing busily at the kitchen table. “I’ve got a blog entry for you,” she said. This is rather momentous — she has very little interest in cyberculture. But here’s what she wrote. (Let this be a warning to other couples who start a family when they are both English Ph.D. students.)
It is dangerous to sing children’s songs at dinnertime.
Carolyn, at 20 months, satisfied with any song, happily repeats the last word of any line like a sweet echo. Peter, on the other hand…First I try “Found a Peanut,” but Peter asks too many theological questions (“Why did he kick the angel?”) so I say nevermind, here’s a better song, and sing “On Top of Spaghetti.”
CC photo by inazakira
On top of Spaghetti
All covered with cheese
I lost my poor meatball
When I had to sneeze.
It rolled off the table
And onto the floor
And then my poor meatball
Rolled out of the door.
It rolled off the front porch
And under a bush
And then my poor meatball
Was nothing but mush.Peter has been growing red in the face and teary-eyed. I stop singing. “Are you crying about that meatball?” I ask. He nods.
I try to explain that the song is supposed to amuse children, not to make them sad.
“I just can’t stop thinking and thinking about that poor meatball,” he says, tears rolling from his pinched, squinting eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it for an hour. Is an hour 60 minutes?”
“Yes.”
“For who would want to eat it when it’s mush under a bush?”
“Ants?” I suggest. “Or maybe a dog will find it.”
“And another thing… they should close the front door. Then the meatball would just bounce on it and roll back to him.”
“Good point.”
“Or maybe he should remember to cover his mouth when he sneezes.”
Peter seems to be regaining his composure, but a few minutes later, he bursts into full crying. I kiss his red face and try to think of other ways to soften his horror at the meatball’s hard fate. [Mushy fate. — DGJ] Maybe the boy was dawdling, and the meatball sat on his plate too long, and wouldn’t taste good anymore anyway. He doesn’t seem convinced. I encourage Peter to finish his pizza (he’s been dawdling for over an hour), because pizza is Italian food, just like meatballs & spaghetti, and the meatball might be glad he ate Italian food.
Finally I tell him we’ll write down how he feels and put it on the Internet, so that everyone knows it’s not a good song to sing. This is all that will console Peter, and help him feel he’s set things right.
“But you’ll never be able to distract me from that meatball.”
Indeed, a few minutes later, he again bursts into full crying, wailing, “Oh! If only that boy dived on the floor and saved the meatball!”
I put on The Wiggles to distract Peter, who still asks, “Are you writing yet?” while I try to clear the table. “You write down the words and put it on the Internet!”
As I write, he comments that it should have been a cancer cell, not a meatball.
“What would a cancer cell have been doing on top of spaghetti?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Probably putting germs on it.”
A little while later, he supplies the title (“The Meatball: Not a Funny Rhyme”) and composes the following song for parents to sing instead:
“Lucky Meatball”
There was a meatball all covered in cheese.
His father went to close the front door
And said if you sneeze, please sneeze at the floor.
The meatball was poked on a fork
The cheese fell onto the spaghetti
When the ball went up, it went into a mouth and got chewed by teeth.
The cheese was on the first noodle that the boy scooped up.
The meatball got digested into crumbs.
And the boy brushed his teeth.
He said his prayers and went to bed.Peter is in bed now while I am typing this. “The song about the meatball… do you think it’s funny?” he just called out.
“I don’t know,” I said. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think it’s funny,” he said, his voice trembling. “I think it’s sad. The meatball had nourishment for him.”
Here you go, Internet… make things right for a little boy.
Post was last modified on %s = human-readable time difference 2:32 pm
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Thanks for that version, Anonymous.
On top of spaghetti all covered with cheese.
I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed.
It rolled off the table, it rolled on the floor,
And then my poor meatball rolled out of the door.
It rolled in the garden and under a bush,
And then my poor meatball was nothing but mush.
The mush was as tasty as tasty could be,
And early next summer it grew to a tree.
The tree was all covered with beautiful moss.
It grew great big meatballs and tomato sauce.
So if you eat spaghetti all covered with cheese,
Hold on to your meatball and don't ever sneeze.
the song brings back fond memories for me. we used to have fun singing all the time, especially when over at my grandmothers. but if your child interprets it in a negative way then his interpretation should be respected and acted upon in any manner that would calm him and remedy the situation, like what you've done on the internet.
the song isn't as important as your son's feelings. nice job mom !!!
hehe, i search meatball song on google, found a sing-a-long version aswell..yes im slightly sad im 14 :D and hyperactive at 11:45 at night WWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, moving on...awwwww peter sounds so adorable i used to hate and still do hate, baa baa black sheep, partly because i think the sheep wasnt getting any of his own wool :'(, and the boy lived down the lane, where was his mummy and daddy? IM NOT SAD! okay maybe a little bit...*rolls eyes* hey dont judge :) lol
A lil hello and a wave to Peter, im sure he'll grow up to be a charming young man :D all the best in the future
Jess, you're right... my wife typed the song the way she sings it, but I'd have sung it your way, too. And your restauraunt theory makes sense!
That's great! BTW I remember the 4th line being 'When somebody sneezed'. So the singer wasn't to blame after all, and was eating in a restaurant rather than at home - and that's why the door was open! ...
Jess, my wife says, "He sang it, with a little tune that he was kind of winging. I don't think it quite fit, because the meter of the lines isn't right, but he did try to sing it. It was his own little tune."
I was never a fan of the song as a kid, because my mother's rendition always sounded so melancholy! Only when I was 26 did I hear Tom Glaser's recording and think "Hey, it's a comic song!" I think Peter would have benefited from hearing it in full, but hope this page helped him, and bless him for writing an alternative to exorcise the demons. Does he give it a tune (it doesn't seem to use the same melody) or recite it as a poem?
Beats me, jennifer. Thanks for commenting!
how creative that he wanted to make up his own song. i hope he feels better about it now. i bet he will grow to really like that silly song. what's up with alicia?