And how could I have forgotten the fake-Indian chant she learned in camp?

Killy, killy, killy, killy, wash, wash, wash, wash,
Kair um king come kimo ...

There was more but that's all I remember (and I'm not too sure about the second line). Such Indian chants were, in a more innocent day, part of many camps' fireside sings. I bet if you made a collection of them, they'd be a fat notebook all by themselves. All gone now of course.

Hearing her carol this around the house was guaranteed to addle your head.

Bob