from The New Yorker July 1, 1939

I am still cleaning out the room was used to be the guest room and then became the junk room.
Nearly done! And when it's done, its official name will be The Room of the Blue Hedgehog in honor of a picture I found in there of, natch, a blue hedgehog, done by a friend's child when he was in the 4th grade. Yes, it seems to me that everyone needs a hedgehog room (especially if one has so many pets they can't really have a hedgehog. . .)

One of the joys of this clean-up is finding lost treasure. This appeared in the New Yorker in 1939.
I have always loved it. A psychology professor gave this to our class. A mother overheard her young child talking to himself and wrote this down, presumably from behind a door. I don't think the child knew anyone could hear him. Even as irked as he is, he does manage to add some hilarious little touches. He'll remember to put the lid on the garbage can! But even better, the panda, the marble. Oh, yes. And the noonday sun. . .

He will just do nothing at all,
He will just sit there in the noonday sun,
And when they speak to him, he will not answer him,
Because he does not care to.
He will stick them with spears and put them in the garbage.
When they tell him to eat his dinner, he will just laugh at them.
And he will not take his nap, because he does not care to.
He will not talk to them, he will not say nothing,
He will just sit there in the noonday sun.
He will go away and play with the panda.
He will not speak to nobody, because he doesn't have to.
And when they come to look for him, They will not find him,
Because he will not be there.
He will put spikes in their eyes and put them in the garbage,
And put the cover on.
He will not go out in the fresh air or eat his vegetables
Or make wee-wee for them, and he will get thin as a marble.
He will not do nothing at all.
He will just sit there in the noonday sun.