I never sing with my children. *is sad*
This just turned my world upside down. I'd figured you for teaching them the complete works of Sondheim (and possibly the whole score from Avenue Q).
It's not too late. And as a bonus, you can now embarrass them, while you do it.
My brother says that thanks to having two older sisters, he knows more Disney and musical songs than any man ought to.
Umm I know Tom Swifties. And I know I'm going to regret asking this. But what is "hink-pink".
TB, the version my family played (which I just remembered we called Pink Dink) was a rhyming riddle game. You'd come up with a simple two-word rhyme and try to get the others to guess it (or fail to guess it, depending on how competitive you were); you'd signal how many syllables it had by saying "I've got a Pink Dink/Pinky Dinky/Pinkety Dinkety."
Pink Dink: An obese feline = Fat Cat.
Pinky Dinky: A tankard for a mythical beast = Dragon Flagon.
Pinkety Dinkety: A very boring talking device = Monotone Telephone.
I've got a Pinketedy Dinketedy: A leave of absence pillaging on the high seas.
P-C:
Piratical Sabbatical
Good one!
Well done!
Pinky Dinky: An exceedingly hairy Mediterranean capital.
Drat! My piss-poor knowledge of Mediterranean geography is killing me on this one.
Oh, wait. I totally meant "city." Or, to make it easier: "capital."