So My Son

was practicing his cursive after school today. He is seven and full of energy. He can barely sit still. Eating for him is an experience in physics, texture, art and creative dance. For real. So when he said he was practicing his cursive ( you know, sitting sorta still for more than a split second), I must say I was shocked. When I saw that he practiced his cursive by writing me a poem, I immediately went into full mom-brag mode. So here it is (he is in the second grade):

Mom

I love you so much, I can't love you more.

I love you so much, you can soar.

I know it is not long, but I think it is spectacular :)

A Poem

Mom, You Are Meaner Than You Think You Are

"Mom, you are meaner than you think you are!"
screamed my beautiful four-year-old daughter,
seemingly out of the blue.

Maybe it was the outfit I wouldn't buy (hideous)
Or more probably,
Turning down cupcake number two.

Maybe it was all the scolding
About taking off sand-loaded shoes.
In the house, the car, the dance studio,
So much sand does this little girl ooze.

Maybe it was beyond sassy attitude,
or craved i pod and pierced ears.
So many things that wouldn't fly.
Or the rush for makeup, nail polish, cell phone.
So many things I am not ready to buy.

Maybe she knows I am wishing she won't grow up just yet,
That will have to wait a least a year or two.
So to my four-year-old daughter I said,
"Come hug the mean, old mother of you."