My step mother bought me a pair of black rubber gloves with cheetah print detailing. This way I can be fabulous while I do housework, because everyone knows I have to be fabulous 24/7.
Salem located them and put them on her feet. She began dancing around the house singing "I"m a monkey, I'm a monkey, I'm a monkey..." This banter went on for at least 30 minutes then there was a break where she shoved some cookies and apple juice in her mouth. After her refreshments pause, she was back at squealing, "I'm a monkey!"
Finally she tired of being this monkey character and moved on to something else. Unfortunately, like a bad song, I have this phrase stuck in my head and hold little hope of it leaving.
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Talk to me...I love it when strange people give me advice on parenting.