Sunday, July 6, 2014

Century of no progress

Well, here you are.
Five years old and ready for life.
Or if you're not, it's not my fault.
I've tried hard enough.
 I read Watson and stopped petting you.
 I read Montessori and let you express yourself with clay.
 I read Kugelmas and Tested Your Accomplishments. .
 I read Steffens and pretended I knew nothing.
 I read Holt and scheduled you within an inch of your life.
 I read Manin and left you strictly alone.
I read Barnes and watched your vitamins.
I read Clendenning and let you eat anything you pleased.
And so you're ready for life, little man,
And I think you're wonderful.
But when your grandmother looks at you she says,
 "God in His Heaven," she says,
 "He's the image of his father.
"The way his left ankle turns in,
"The nervous wink of his eye when he's excited. . .
 "The way eating eggs sickens him."
Ah, me. Well, I did my best.


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