I Love Your Eyeballs. And Fire.

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:

Looking a little tired, but still not stabbable.

I love your eyeballs.
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.

(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,

Shoes worth begging for.

I need those new shoes.
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.

(I don’t think I need to explain myself. We’ve all been there.)

Do you have any of your own?