so i bought an anthology of poetry tonight. it's a children's anthology, but it isn't necessarily children's poems. it's classic poems that are more accessible for kids.

being the good lit major mom that i am, we snuggled in on the couch. "nooooo, mom, they protested. we don't like poetry. ewwww."

but i figured that there were some fun, witty, poems that would have them reaching for a pen and writing lyrical stanzas in no time.

so we read a little blake, carroll, cummings, yeats. all fun ones. "jabberwocky," fun stuff, honest.

i closed the book, feeling rather smug and satisfied, after all i had seen a smile, heard a giggle, watched them peer over at the pages...

"which one did you like the best guys?"

"honest mom. i just like the short ones so we can be done and play gamecube."

"oh..."

hey, can't say i didn't try. so now i am reading the child's anthology of poetry and trying to find the perfect poem for when the sox win this things once and for all.