Friday, June 5, 2015

A Jamboree Takes Three



I'm the proudest mommy, there ever could be,
So very proud of these beautiful three.
They sing so sweet, in harmony,
A rhythmic beat, a soft melody.

So sometimes it's not so nice,
I know next time it'll be twice as nice, or thrice.

But today it's terrible and that's ok.
You can't be perfect every day.

Tomorrow will be better, and the next day still,
Or perhaps you're sick, feeling seriously ill.

That could explain the terrible sound,
Like the sound you'd make if it was a rat you'd found.

Or a spider, cockroach, or scary snake,
And then you ran, but tripped on a rake.

And while you fell you saw some goo,
And you just knew you'd get some on you.

So you yelled so loud, so long and sharp,
That no one, not anyone, wouldn't hear you bark.

Ahhh! You'd say, pulling yourself up and away,
Hoping the goo wouldn't stay.

But it was still there, and it was everywhere
And you just weren't prepared to have goo in your hair.

But don't worry honey, sweetie, and love,
Most of the time you sing like a dove.

Except when you don't and that's ok,
Because I'll always love you anyway.
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