Jolly friends forevermore

Her name’s Corinne but they call her Coco.
As in Chanel?
Yes, as in Chanel. And she’s as adorable as that sounds.
She’s our great niece. A year and a half. She calls me Ed-dee, with heavy emphasis on each d. Mary Kay is simply Kay.
How we’d spoil her if she lived closer, but alas, she and her dentist mom and pharmacist dad are a good six-plus hour’s ride down Interstate 81.
We do what we can though, meaning we’re regulars at the Baby Boden table in the Boden Outlet on Main St., Pittston, and at Babies R Us. Coco’s address is on file at the UPS Store.
We kinda went overboard for a recent (her one and only, actually) visit to our house. Her mom said the little table and chairs, art easel and book case (put it all together myself) would have to remain at our house for future visits. No room at theirs. But the little tiger that spoke and sang when you pushed its belly was certainly welcome to go home with them considering Coco’s response to it which was pretty much love at first sight. She calls it “baby.”
I didn’t know it when we bought her, but “baby” channels my mom. A little bit, anyway.
In baby’s repertoire is a line from a song my mom sang to my kids over and over to put them to sleep.
Playmate,
Come out and play with me,
And bring your dollies three
Climb up my apple tree,
Look down my rain barrel,
Slide down my cellar door,
And we’ll be jolly friends,
For evermore.

Mom sang it out of key, keeping beat with the rocking chair.
I can picture her leaving out the last word of each line for Greta to fill in.
That was more than 30 years ago.
I have not yet had the chance to sing the whole thing to Coco, but, mark my words (my mom’s expression), I will.

Ed Ackerman