...and a crowing hen, are neither good for God nor men.
This saying was apparently a favourite of my grandad on my mother's side. I never really got it but neither did I ever forget it. It jumped back into my mind this weekend as my four year old, after months of trying and becoming ever more frustrated by her lack of success, finally managed to make a tiny little whistling sound by blowing air through pursed lips.
I clearly remember going through the same process as a young girl myself (possibly causing my grandad to quote those favourite words of his).
Now that she has cracked the mystery of whistling, she is experimenting with pitch and volume and thoroughly enjoying herself.
I can't believe that my joyous little tuneless whistling woman child would not be good for God nor men. She certainly warms my heart.