Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
What is a boy?
I was in Walmart earlier today and of course Noah has to go "potty" as soon as we walk in the door! While we were in the bathroom a lady saw Noah and gave me this poem that she had written........
What is a boy?
Between the innocence of babyhood and the diginity of manhood
we find a delightful creature called a boy.
Boys come in assorted sizes, weights, and colors,
but all boys have the same creed: to enjoy every second
of every minute of every hour of every day
and to protect with noise (their only weapon)
when their last minute is finished
and the adult males pack them off to bed at night.
Boys are found everywhere-on top of, underneath,
inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around, or jumping to.
Mothers love them, little girls hate them,
older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them,
and heaven protects them. A boy is truth with dirt on it's face,
beauty with a cut on it's finger, wisdom with bubble gum in it's hair,
and hope of the future with a frog in it's pocket.
A boy is composite- he has the appetite of a horse,
the digestion of a sword swallower, the energy of a pocket size atomic bomb,
the lungs of a dictator, the curosity of a cat, the imagination of Paul Bunyan,
the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap,
the enthusiasm of a firecracker, and when he makes something,
he has five thumbs on each hand.
He likes ice cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books,
the boy across the street, woods, water (in it's natural habitat),
large animals, Dad, trains, Saturdays, and fire engines.
He is not much for company, school, books without pictures,
music lessons, neckties, barbers, girls, overcoats, adults or bedtime.
Nobody else is so early to rise, or so late to supper.
Nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs and breezes.
Nobody else can cram into one pocket a rusty knife, a half eaten apple,
three feet of string, an empty Bull Durham sack,
two supersonic code rings with a secret compartment.
A boy is a magic creature- you can lock him out of your workshop,
but you can't lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study,
but you can't get him out of your mind. Might as well give up.
He is your captor, your jailer, your boss, and your master-a freckled face,
pint sized, cat chasing bundle of noise.
But when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams, he can mend them like new with the two magic words "Hi dad!"
What is a boy?
Between the innocence of babyhood and the diginity of manhood
we find a delightful creature called a boy.
Boys come in assorted sizes, weights, and colors,
but all boys have the same creed: to enjoy every second
of every minute of every hour of every day
and to protect with noise (their only weapon)
when their last minute is finished
and the adult males pack them off to bed at night.
Boys are found everywhere-on top of, underneath,
inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around, or jumping to.
Mothers love them, little girls hate them,
older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them,
and heaven protects them. A boy is truth with dirt on it's face,
beauty with a cut on it's finger, wisdom with bubble gum in it's hair,
and hope of the future with a frog in it's pocket.
A boy is composite- he has the appetite of a horse,
the digestion of a sword swallower, the energy of a pocket size atomic bomb,
the lungs of a dictator, the curosity of a cat, the imagination of Paul Bunyan,
the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap,
the enthusiasm of a firecracker, and when he makes something,
he has five thumbs on each hand.
He likes ice cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books,
the boy across the street, woods, water (in it's natural habitat),
large animals, Dad, trains, Saturdays, and fire engines.
He is not much for company, school, books without pictures,
music lessons, neckties, barbers, girls, overcoats, adults or bedtime.
Nobody else is so early to rise, or so late to supper.
Nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs and breezes.
Nobody else can cram into one pocket a rusty knife, a half eaten apple,
three feet of string, an empty Bull Durham sack,
two supersonic code rings with a secret compartment.
A boy is a magic creature- you can lock him out of your workshop,
but you can't lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study,
but you can't get him out of your mind. Might as well give up.
He is your captor, your jailer, your boss, and your master-a freckled face,
pint sized, cat chasing bundle of noise.
But when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams, he can mend them like new with the two magic words "Hi dad!"
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