Last night, Z sweetly professed his love for me. At least that’s what I chose to hear. Now, with the perspective of time, I’m wondering if it might have been a warning that certain body parts are the only thing between me and a puncture wound. He delivered the love morsel via the following unintentional haiku:
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| Looking a little tired, but still not stabbable. |
I love your eyeballs.
I love your tongue and your hair.
I will NOT stab you.
I love your tongue and your hair.
I will NOT stab you.
Fitting, as SJS is now going to a Japanese immersion school. His accidental poem inspired the following, also in haiku. These are actual phrases uttered by my kids. They needed a little poetic adaptation to fit the form, but not much.
Lookit! Lookit dis!
I need to show you dis! Cool!
It came from my nose.
I need to show you dis! Cool!
It came from my nose.
(Get a tissue. And if you don’t stop, you’re going to get your finger stuck up there.)
Have you ever seen
a guy with a face on fire?
That would be cool.
(This is from a kid who says he wants to be a “flamer guy” when he grows up. Whatever makes you happy, dude.)
And one from SJS,
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| Shoes worth begging for. |
I need those new shoes.
Please! I only have 4 pairs.
Well, you have a lot.
Please! I only have 4 pairs.
Well, you have a lot.
(Touche)
And finally, me,
No, no! I said truck!
You must have heard me wrong.
I’m sure I said truck.
You must have heard me wrong.
I’m sure I said truck.
(I don’t think I need to explain myself. We’ve all been there.)
Do you have any of your own?
