Esa tardecita Grama Cuca was sitting in the kitchen trying de ayudarle a Canutito con su homework. Pero he was having a hard time porque los números del arithmetic were just something que no podía comprender. Grama Cuca tried ayudándole al muchachito con sus additions y subtractions pero el Canutito was just not getting it. Alfín Grama Cuca decidió try un different tactic.

Le dijo al muchachito, “Mira, m’hijo, cuando yo estaba en la escuela I would try de hacer todo rhyme so that I could acordarme de las cosas. I used to know un poema que I think you should learn también. It goes algo como así: ‘One, two; buckle my shoe. Three, four; shut the door. Five, six; pick up sticks. Seven, eight; lay them straight. Nine, ten; a big, fat hen’. ¿Do you think que puedes hacer memorize eso, m’hijo?”

Pero just as Canutito comenzó a hacer repeat, Grampo Caralampio came into the cocina carrying su armload de leña. He called over his shoulder, “Don’t confuse al muchachito, Cuca. Así no es cómo you teach los números al muchachito. Tienes que hacer rhyme el inglés con el español. Try it this way mejor: One, two; baila tú. Three, four; haz el amor. Five, six; úntate Vicks. Seven, eight; llama a la Kate, Nine, ten; picó un jején. Anyway, maybe que los números no son su mero chocolate.”

“En inglés you say que no es su mero ‘cup of tea’ pero speaking de chocolate, I just remembered que mi mamá used to contar así: ‘una, dos, tres, cho, una, dos, tres, co, una, dos, tres, la, una, dos, tres, te. –Chocolate’.”

“Eso está bien Cuca, pero nomás if you want al niño to learn how to count all the way to number three. Maybe you should just teach a Canutito cómo contar backwards from ten to one, como hacen allá en el space shuttle.”

“There was such a poema,” said Grama Cuca, suddenly remembering. “I think it went como algo así, ‘I had ten little puppies y uno fell into la nieve, now all I have is nueve, nueve, nueve. Of the nine I had remaining, uno ate a big biscocho, now all I have is ocho, ocho, ocho. De los ocho que tenía one fell into el zoquete, now all I have is siete, siete, siete. Of the seven little puppies uno starved for thirty days now all I have is seis, seis, seis. De los seis little perritos, one gave a big ole brinco, now all I have is cinco, cinco, cinco. Of the cinco little perros, one ran off with the teatro, now all I have is cuatro, cuatro, cuatro. De los cuatro que tenía, one swam like a river pez now all I’ve got is tres, tres, tres. Of the three puppies remaining, one died de la whooping tos now I’ve got but dos, dos, dos. De los dos little perritos, one starved from a long ayuno, now all I have is uno, uno, uno. Of the uno pup remaining he tripped on a nasty jara, now all I have is nada, nada, nada.”

“How is that, m’hijo?” Grampo Caralampio asked Canutito. “Are you getting the hang de los números?”

“I don’t know, grampo,” replied the little boy. “I don’t think que la mestra will let me say rhyming words cada vez que I do my arithmetic. In fact, se me hace que I’m not even allowed to say nada porque then she will think que estoy cheat-iando.”

“That’s true,” said Grampo Caralampio, “if I were saying el poema de los diez perritos, I would probably just get sidetracked thinking of my own perra que yo tenía when I was little. I used to call her la Chara and I would call her: ‘¡Chara! ¡Chara! ¡Chara!’ See, I already gotten sidetracked. What were we talking about?”

Canutito just rolled his ojos up pa’l cielo. He knew que he would never become un rocket scientist si no sabía contar. He always wondered por qué no tenía concentración cuando hacía su arithmetic. Pero ahora que he saw grampo get sidetracked, he knew que le venía de herencia. The manzana didn’t fall far del árbol …