“We’ll bring it up later,” We said about our underwears Then we left the pile of’em On the bottom of the stairs, And on the step above’em Rolled neatly into pairs We left a dozen socks And three brushes for our hairs. On the 4th step from the bottom My stack of comics went Right below my sister’s piggybank Chock full of Lincoln cents. A tennis racket and mobile device Were on the next step up. Three picture frames followed, two candelabra, Then one antique porcelain tea cup. Mom don’t love when we put stuff there We don’t get what’s the matter Though to climb up the steps The way that they is We sure could use a ladder.
Tag Archives: parents
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BEDTIME IN BUFFALO – A Tweed Typewriter Short
A stolen moment between father and son captures how in Western, New York, the road to sweet dreams is paved by the Buffalo Bills. Whatever team you root for and wherever you lay your head, this short film may just have you chanting Let’s Go Buffalo….to sleep! This Tweed Typewriter Production stars Pawloski and Son, […]
CONFESST?ON
I’m painting on our housebricks
even though I’m not allowed.
But I don’t think Mom or Dad will mind,
they’re gonna be so proud.
Why I do things like this sometimes
I guess I just don’t know.
But tell me, have you ever seen
a better brick rainbow?
CLEMENTINE WHO
To the tune of
“O, My Darling,”
did a Mama sing sweetly,
to her girls,
Rose and Mary,
when they were just
one and three:
‘Sissy Ro-Ro,
Sissy Ro-Ro,
Sissy Ro-Ro,
Sissy Mare!
Sissy Mare-Mare,
Sissy Mare-Mare,
Sissy Mare-Mare,
Sissy Ro!’
As they grew up
Rose and Mary
Agreed Mama’s words were fine.
So not ‘till now in
this here story,
did they hear of
Clementine.
NOT POSITIVE ID
When she brought home
my new kid sister
Mom said,
“Say hello to Carrie.”
I thought that’s what Mom said,
but am I certain?
Well, no.
Not very.
Because Dad calls the kid
“L’il Chicken”
or
“Queen of Sheba-Geneeba Sleuth.”
While Mom says to her,
“Just look at you,
My Sweet Precious Little
Houndstooth!”
Gramma sings
“Hi Boo-ga-loo,”
while strolling baby
‘round the block.
Grampa asks Dad
for pictures of
“My favorite l’il
Cuckoo Clock.”
Me?
I’ve learned:
forgetful silly tongued grownups
can be scary.
Lucky for my sister
I for one
will be sticking with her real name:
Carrie.
Image
ON KIDS
WHAT IF
I asked,
“What if I blew my teeth?
What if I brushed my nose?
What if I ironed the leaves?
What if I raked my clothes?
What if I clipped my ears?
Pierced my nails?
Flossed my shoes?
Shined my hair?
Climbed my bike?
Rode the stairs?
Took a bed?
Went to bath?
Added letters?
Read my math?
Swam a jog?
Ran a swim—”
“Well,” Mom cut in,
“Eventually folks might ask
‘Sooo…..What’s up with him?’”
MOON TAKER
As they headed home from Nana’s house
late one clear, dark night,
Fred said to his Mom and Dad,
“See the moon there,
big and bright?
Could I pretty please this once
take it home with me?”
“Why, Fred,” his mother said,
“that idea sure is…….
lovely.
“And maybe you could,” she said,
“But how will you reach and get the moon?”
“How I get the kickball from the garage top shelf,”
Fred said,
“by knocking it down with the broom.”
“That sounds good,” said Fred’s Dad,
“but how’ll you catch it when it falls?”
“Easy,” said Fred,
“in Baby Jane’s old crib
where we keep all her dolls.”
“And just where would you keep the Moon,” Dad asked,
“once we got it to our place?”
“No problem,” Fred said,
“I’ll clear out my big wagon,
the red one, to make some space.
Then I can drive the moon around,
and show him our whole street.
The way he’s movin’ above the trees,
makes me think
he thinks seein’ stuff is neat.”
“Well that’s just it,” Fred’s Dad said
as their house came into sight.
“Here we are, back from Nana’s,
and the moon’s still with us,
big and bright.
That makes me think the moon loves traveling
just like you have guessed.”
“So, maybe,” Fred’s Mom said,
“leaving him to roam the sky
would be best.
And the next night that we’re out like this
and see the moon again,
I’ll bet he’ll hang out with us some more,
to prove, once more,
we’re friends.”
Fred gazed up at the sky and thought
about what his Mom and Dad had said.
“Yes, maybe you’re right,” he told them,
“I’m tired.
And the moon doesn’t quite look ready for bed.”
THE BOOT FLEECE POLICE
Mom got new rain boots
Red, rubber, and tall.
Dad asked, “How’d you choose’em?”
Mom said “They’re cool. That’s all.”
Now my Mom’s no liar
But I thought, nonetheless,
Let’s take those cool boots
And put’em to the test.
So when she was too busy
To stop my experiment
I took some cold milk
And in those boots it went.
Like a good scientist
I let my test tube be
And went off to play
For an hour or three.
Perhaps it was even longer
I lost track when Mom screamed,
The unexpected milk
In her boot had her steamed.
I said, “Wait one sec, Mom,
Take a breath, cool down.
Allow me to measure that
Milk puddle on the ground.”
Once I had I said, “Mom,
I’d be angry too!
This spilled milk is warm.
So those boots? Not so cool.”
The thing that they sold you
Is not what you bought.
It seems in some faux-thermo-
boot-scam you’re caught!”
Overcome with shock
Or maybe with grief
Like anyone who’s been
Taken by a thief
She said not a word
but just looked at me,
And I wondered perhaps
if deep down she felt glee
At her little scientist’s
new discovery.
Yes, I thought to myself,
pride must be what I see.
Tweed Typewriter 