I went to Greggory's parent teacher conference yesterday and the teacher says, "He seems very bright, but his writing is too editorial, and quite frankly, inappropriate at times. " Apparently the problem was that she had the class study Edgar Allan Poe and then write a Halloween poem modeled after Double Double Toil & Trouble. This was his poem.
Double Double Toil & Trouble
Fire burn and couldron bubble
Into my bubbling pot will go
Scary stories from Edgar Allan Poe
Stirring stirring my bubbling pot
A kitten's blood and a tater tot
In the pot my ingredients will stew
with a drop of blood and a stink of poo.
In the foy a devil is cooked
the head of a man and a witch that is hooked.
In my pot there is a mixture
The smoke of a turtle, my dad's head in the fixture.
The tail of a donkey and the guts of a mutt
With a flick of Mr. Hippopotumus butt
An ear of Cyrus and a drop of blood in Cider
Vicky's foot and a creepy spider
A thing of money and a dog's tail
All the blood and bones from a jail.
A ghost's blood with a kitten's pew
A chicken butt and some Mountain Dew.
Greggory Evans
Ok, so maybe the thing about his dad's head was kind of odd, but that wasn't her problem. No the problem was that he mentioned poo. Yep, you need to write a poem about a witches brew. You can add bat wings and slimey goo, but definitely - not poo.
The boy's spent Thanksgiving with me. It wasn't a big family Thanksgiving. My mom had to work so we went over there for dinner last night and then I made dinner for the three of us today. I made the works. The turkey, the rolls, the hollondaise sauce, the pies. Everything was ok. I really should have used butter to baste the turkey and cooked the pies a little longer but the boy's were oblivious. You know you have the best boys in the world when they both come away from the table saying, "That was the best Thanksgiving dinner ever!", and then doing all of the dishes without making a mess of my kitchen.
Is there any wonder what I'm thankful for?
The man is in Ireland. The kids are at dad's. There's no snow on the mountain. So what do I do? Go shopping and put a hot man in my bed.....while I slept in the other room.
Damn. When did I get so moral.
