This post has been brought to you by the letter P.

  1. We shall now crown the new princess of poetry for receiving the most votes in the write-your-own-lullaby contest.  Congratulations to Shoebox Princess for this lovely little nighttime morsel, sung to the tune of Give, Said the Little Stream:

Sleep said the mommy, Sleep,
Rest your head, Sleepyhead
Sleep said the mommy, Sleep
As I tuck you into bed

You’re small, you know
But wherever you go,
I’ll be there to keep you safe

When you wake up we will play
Morning, noon, thru all the day
But for now sweet dreams shall be
Nighttime love from me

She wins this beautiful crown of glory, and a coveted stint on my sidebar.  Nice work, SP.  Don’t you think the tiara will go nicely with your blog theme?  I think that, in her honor, we should all sing this to our children at bedtime tonight.

Poetry crown

2.  Because I’m feeling a little precocious, I wrote this little tongue twister reminiscent of Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.  Only mine is much more realistic . . . unless I’m the only person who lives nursery rhymes (remember all those horrible ones like birds pecking eyes out and stuff?) and the rest of you live fairy tales.

Patient parent pleaded plenty to pouting primary-aged persons:  “Please put piles, pieces, plates and pants in their perfect little places.” But if patient parent pleads plenty and primary-aged persons persist in procrastinating, how much patience can patient parent really possess?  Please let this penetrate your puny perception:  It’s possible that patient parent will purposely project unpleasant punishments at puckish primary-aged persons resulting in personal pain, penitence and panic …. So presume this:  Patient parent’s patience is not nearly as plentiful as you perhaps perceive.  (So go pick up your blasted peck of of piles, pieces, plates, and pants for Pete’s sake!)

It’s possible I need a nap.