Sing. Sing Out Loud.

I am at work.
See me at work.
I will marry you.

I am at home.
See me at home.
I will marry you.

You are not going out into the wet.

This was my first composition. The actual piece of paper exists somewhere in my mother's extensive files. She wrote it down, of course, because I could not yet read nor write. It was a song, to be exact. Some day I might sing it for you. Likely I will not. I don't know what made me think of this today, but I did think about it. For much too long. Nevertheless, here is my analysis:

Work comes first, sadly even when I was three.
"Marry" is perpetually in the future tense.
Clearly, I am a young advocate of cohabitation.
One is expected to work wiith one's life partner. Unfortunately, that didn't end so well for my mom and dad. Or my mom and stepdad. Or my mom and my second stepdad.
I am comfortable giving orders. At least this order.
The "wet" is to be avoided at all costs.
If I recall, the song is to be sung in a minor key.

For my next installment, we will revisit the Amelia Bedelia book that I translated into my own "special language." This was not a written language – rather, it was an improvised spoken gibberish, because then no one could ever find the key.