Shame Shame Shame

I picked up my son from camp. Part of the routine is that we spend some time afterward at the playground, specifically the sand area. He likes to use the mechanical scoops and I like to sit on the bench and watch. And whereas most adults will keep walking past me and not make eye contact, cats and small children can sense my bright pink aura. A little boy, 4 or 5, bee-lined over to me.

“You want to play Shame Shame Shame?”

All I could think was, well, I hope it doesn’t involve running because that would indeed be a shame shame shame.

“I don’t know that one,” I said. “What is it?”

He put out his hands as if to play a hand-clapping game.

“Oh,” I said. “Is it like Dr Pepper?”

Back in the day when I was a camp counselor, I learned a hand-clapping game with the Dr Pepper jingle.

‘I drink Dr Pepper don’t you know, it’s the original taste that I love so…’

It’s got some high and low claps, a knee slap, some finger snaps… I was pretty good at it. I had it down cold actually.