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Hips, a conversation about their purpose and shape takes place. Then the singing starts.
Skip, skip, snake in your hips Wiggle around and break your lip.
They are getting in to it, all except Nenny.
Some are skinny like chicken lips. Some are baggy like soggy Band-aids after you get out of the bathtub I don't care what kind I get. Just as long as I get hips.
*humming* not a girl, not a boy, just a little baby.
My mother and your mother were washing clothes. My mother punched your mother right in the nose. What color blood came out?
Not that song. You've got to make one up!
Nenny does not understand, or won't.
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