My grandparents have had this hippo sculpture thing for as long as I can remember.
Ever since I was itty bitty, I’ve referred to it as “Roadkill”.
There’s no way I came up with that on my own. Who taught me that? Papa Wheelie? Probably.
So many of the things my mom hated to hear me say were things I learned from the patriarchs of my family.
Road kill
Oh, and let’s not forget my great-uncle teaching all of us kids to sing this gem. It was especially popular to sing on Wednesday nights in Granny and Paw Paw’s car on the way home from church any time we smelled a skunk:
“Dead Skunk” by Loudon Wainwright III
Related posts:
Oklahoma girl through-and-through. Writer, aspiring domestic goddess and totalitarian dictator. Taking on the world one carb-induced coma at a time. Founder of GodlyGals, a ministry for women established in 2002. Co-host of Picture Shows & Petticoats. 
My dad taught me that same song!
I hope you teach it to your troop
Dibs on the hippo.
Apparently you are unaware that a blog post devoted to a cement hippo constitutes “dibs” on said hippo.
I know that song. HOW? I have no idea.
Probably because we’re joined at the brain stem.
Oh goodness. We were roadkill people too.
Haha. I LOVE IT.
man, I loved that song back in the day!
I still love it! I plan on keeping it alive and teaching it to my future children.