Pickle On Your Nibble

This is Micaela.

Micaela has many facets.  Currently, one of her personalities is gangsta rapper girl.  (Please, do not tell her she is a red-headed white girl living in the suburbs.  This will greatly upset her, and as it is, we are maintaining a fine balance of hormones, mood swings, and general teenage angst.)
Being the street-wise and talented rapper that she is, she can often be heard hittin’ a beat and making up her own lyrics to describe just about any situation in daily life.  It can be quite entertaining–fo realz, yo.  Just the other day, she gave quite an outstanding performance dedicated to the Taco Bell Cool Ranch Doritos taco.  It was brilliant.
This is Jadon.
He is the little brother.  As you probably know, little brothers like to mimic what their older siblings do.  So in the car yesterday, he came up with his own rap, which really didn’t have a bad beat and internal rhyme scheme—for a 5-year-old kid.  I was impressed.
Except.  Well, it could be my many years of being a cynical adult or the many, many years of abusing the English language with dirty euphemisms and then laughing hysterically at what I deemed wholly inappropriate, BUT I think that the first time he recites his little ditty in school, I’m gonna get a phone call.
Here are the first couple of lines for your reading/singing pleasure.  (Remember, you have to get a rap beat going first.  It doesn’t work without it.  Word.  Yo, y’all.)
“I put my pickle on your nibble,
and I had a tasty snack.”
Now, being a part of the ENTIRE conversation, I happen to know that my daughter was rapping about food.  Therefore, Jadon decided to rap about the finer aspects of his Happy Meals.  The boy likes pickles.  Makes sense.
BUT.  Taken out of context (which I did…and started to giggle helplessly when my teenager looked at me aghast), these lyrics could seem a bit…hmmm…inappropriate.  Especially in today’s school environment of overreact-to-everything-and-suspend-the-kid, I’m thinking this might not go over well.
Imagine if you will a sour-faced administrator calling you up and demanding to know the meaning behind the term “pickle on your nibble.”  I’m not sure I could explain it properly.  And I’m not sure I could keep from giggling, which would probably mean my butt would end up in detention as well.
I am SO not answering the phone this week if the school calls.  In fact, I need to make sure Jason’s number is at the top of the contact list.

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