The princeling and I often talk about stories. Last weekend, I listened to him try to rewrite all of my stories. Every single one.
While cleaning up some papers, I came across a poem we had started together. I remembered the first line, but had forgotten he had written the second. And now I know why he and I don’t work poetry much. He’s 11. And a boy. And I shouldn’t have been suprised….
If I had a robot heart,
Would I be able to fart.
Yup, my son has mad rhyming skills.