Tag Archives: Son

HF: Haiku’d They Be Home?

Or, “What Goes Through a Four-Year-Old’s Mind: The Quintessential Statement and Question”.

Haiku Friday He whined begged all day
“Can I go play with Tristan?”
“She’s not home right now–”

He doesn’t believe
I relent and send him off
“Fine, off you go then”

One stipulation:
“If she’s not there, come right back”
He said, “I will, Mum”

Watched him walk over
Her house is across the street
Further than you’d think

I waited to see
Ha! I knew she wasn’t there!
Watched him walk down drive

Then he stopped and spun
Doubled back, walked through the gate
Yard, he was headed

Slipped on my flip flops
Beats me what he was up to
I had to see this

Walked all the way there
“Ian, what were you doing?
Come on, she’s not home…”

Eyes popped then heart jumped:
“I went through the doggy door”
My son, the crim’nal

I put the fear of death into him. By chance the phone rang when we got back. He said, “who was it Mummy?” “The POLICE!” I said curtly, trying not to smirk. Then we had a chat about social integrity (believing when people aren’t home because they don’t answer the door and you shouldn’t go check, just to make sure), criminal behaviour and house casing. He won’t be doing that again. I hope.


HF: Pee the Beds*

Haiku FridayThe Haiku theme? Hair
Well, Ah didnae plan ahead (no pun intended)
This is what you get:

The front door opened
T’was Ian, “I brought you these”
Just out-of-the-blue

Sigh, my heart melted
My l’il one picked me flowers
I love him to death

* There was an Urban Legend of sorts going around (still is) when I was a kid, that if you touched the yellow part of dandelions and got the yellow on you, you’d pee the bed that night. I must’ve touched a ton of them growing up.

Thanks to AlmostAmerican for this: Dandelion in French is ‘pissenlit’. (’lit’=bed)