Bedtime
by Eleanor Farjeon
Five minutes, five minutes more, please!
Let me stay five minutes more!
Can’t I just finish the castle
I’m building here on the floor?
Can’t I just finish the story
I’m reading here I my book?
Can’t I just finish this bead-chain –
It almost is finished, look!
Can’t I just finish the game, please?
When a game’s once begun
It’s a pity never to find out
Whether you’ve lost or won.
Can’t I just stay five minutes?
Well can’t I just stay four?
Three minutes then? Two minutes?
Can’t I stay one minute more?
Now why do I remember this poem at all? There is a story behind that. As part of reciting the poem, my parents gave me hand gestures to go along. This was to seem more entertaining and indirectly get me over the task of young public speaking. During the “can’t I finish” section of the poem I would gesture to the floor in different areas or act like I was reading a book.
However, we get to the point in the poem where the child is counting down. I counted down along with my fingers as I got to each line. So five minutes , I had my hand wide. Then I closed my thumb and displayed the remaining four fingers. I kept going until I got to one finger. When I was young my natural countdown instinct was to have my middle finger represent one. My parents realized the flaw in the hand signs and kept trying to break me of it.
It didn’t work until they explained it. My parents explained it was a rude gesture that I should never make. I think I managed to correct my counting and my pointer finger became the last digit to survive. That’s how my parents taught me at least. However, part of my desperately hopes when it came time to go in front of the judges that nervousness and pressure got the better of me. That in that final line, after which I’m sure I just wanted to run and hide, I was standing there in all my innocence with a big grin on my face giving all the judges the middle finger. That would be funny.