Dear Kid,

It’s May 1 (Happy May!) which means it’s May Day, Save the Rhino Day, and Mother Goose Day.

We’ve talked about May Day (read about it here and here if you don’t remember) and we’ve talked about Saving Rhinos (here), but we haven’t really talked about Mother Goose.

Mostly because the seemingly innocent Mama Goose rhymes and stories are—when you get right down to it—creepy as all get out.

‘frigzample: Humpty Dumpty isn’t an egg. Mind blown, right? I don’t know who started drawing Sir Dumpty as an egg, but probably it was someone who could draw an oval more easily than he or she could draw King Richard III.

Humpty Dumpty (King Richard III) sat on a wall (actually a horse, but that’s also hard to draw). HD (KRIII) had a great fall. Yep, fell off his mount, yelled “My kingdom for a horse!” (didn’t get one). All the King’s horse and all the King’s men couldn’t put H together again. Well, when you think about it, how many horses are well known healers? (Centaurs don’t count.)

Then there’s Mary, Mary quite contrary. Turns out that “contrary” in this case means “homicidal psychopath” and the Mary in question is Queen Mary I. It further turns out that “silver bells” and “cockle shells” are medieval torture devices (she was a vicious woman, that QM I).

You know that Ring Around the Rosy is about the plague (because we watch NCIS and learn these things–I was going to include the relevant clip, but I just spent 2 hours looking for it and My Friend the Internet isn’t cooperating. Use your imagination.).

The list goes on, but it doesn’t get any nicer. Since today is a lovely nice day, I will stop with the gory tales (also because I am a sweet flower who is too delicate for such stories before coffee).

Save the Rhinos.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Once upon a time a friend of mine wrote a poem. I’m not sure what happened to her. We were friends BFB (Before FaceBook) and there are a LOT of people with her name floating out there in cyberspace.

For all I know, she has a different name now. Either way, I’m no longer in contact with her (which is too bad because she was a spitfire Back Then and I can only assume her fire still has a lot of spit in it).

Here is the poem she wrote:

Plump and juicy the apple sits
Upon the window sill.
Mount-watering as the sunlight flits
Over its deep red peel.

I reach down toward this glowing fruit
So round and smooth and firm.
With anticipation I am mute
So I bite; and find a worm.

By E. Hopkins

Now you know why she and I were friends.

Here’s to an infestation-free day.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

ODE TO THE INTERNET
On a painfully slow day

I sit and wait for you to load
You’re not as fast as I was told
The time it takes is gone for good
Come on! This is my livelihood!

I sit and wait for you to load
It’s long past time you finally showed
And trust me now, I won’t forget.
I need to reach the internet.

I sit and wait for you to load
And now my dinner’s growing cold
And still I wait and wait and wait.
I’m getting bored; it’s getting late.

I sit and wait for you to load
I’m going into panic mode
I’ve got to get my story set
I’ve got to reach the internet!

I sit and wait for you to load
I think my head just might explode
As time continues not to fly
Without the ‘net, I just might die!

I sat and waited all night long
I even wrote this little song
A wasted night that I regret
I still can’t reach the internet…

Love, Mom

You want to share this one, don’t you? Go ahead. It’s OK.

Dear Kid,

Today, a poem by Langston Hughes.

Mother to Son

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So, boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps.
‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

Langston Hughes

Love, Mom

P.S. Happy Birthday Grandma Lala!

Dear Kid,

Today I have no topic,
There’s nothing left to say.
But if I dare go post-less
You’ll fuss at me all day.

I thought of writing limericks
I thought of writing prose
I thought of talking puppy
But rejected all of those.

I considered telling stories
Of you as a little boy
Of Legos and of fire trucks
And other boy-type toy(s).

I thought of other stories
But decided not to try
It might not make you happy
And I don’t want you to cry.

So instead I’ll say good morning,
And hope your day is great(er)
Study hard and party smart
And text your mama later.

Love, Mom