Opposite Day

When I was a little girl, my family lived in an apartment complex in Northern Virginia, just outside D.C. I was friends with many of the girls my age who also lived in the "courtyard," as we called it. Our buildings formed a rectangle in the inner portion of the neighborhood. Between the four buildings was rectangular sidewalk, and within that rectangle was a plot of grass and trees. After school, on weekends, and in the summer, we played out there like it was our job. We roller-skated, jumped rope, rode bikes, used the fence as a balance beam, hung upside down from the trees. We played with our dolls, did all those hand-clapping games (including the one from the Cosby Show*), and sang kid songs.

What I'm about to relate to you now is a song I made up during that time, when I was about six or seven years old. Although my friends and I definitely had our squabbles and "mean girl" moments, I think I was just having fun with opposites when I composed this little ditty. It's sung to the tune of "Say, Say My Playmate".

Say, say my enemy,
come out and fight with me
and bring your bulldogs three.
Fall out my apple tree.

Slide down my thunder cloud
into my jail door.
And we'll be enemies
forevermore.

There, now I've made myself vulnerable. Please don't judge me. I really wasn't a dark and morose child.



See?


*Skip to minute 4:55.