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POETRY  FOR  KIDS

double decker ARMADILLO

1/20/2020

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PictureThis photo is terribly out of focus because the habitat was dimly lit, but it is still clear who went to sleep first.
Yellow armadillos snoozing,
naptime at the zoo.
These guys are usually playing
but today there's something new:
a double-decker armadillo,
one stacked on the other!
I wonder how they choose
just who's to snooze atop its brother.
Do they chat about it nicely?
Do they argue? Flip a dime?
Have a gentlemen's agreement?
Is it different every time?
In the middle of the night,
Does Mamadillo make them swap?
I think whoever stays awake
The longest gets the top!

About this poem: We visit the Wildlife World Zoo and Aquarium often because it's just down the road, and we've named many of the animals. These little yellow armadillos we call Malcolm and Griffin, after my sons. They're usually digging in the sand or chasing each other playfully (I think playfully...). Not today. "Armadillo" is an easy rhyme with "pillow," but there were no pillows in sight today--just an armadillo bunk bed! (I stretched the truth for the poem--their mom does not share their den--it's just the two of them on their frolicsome own.)

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OUR EGGCELLENT FAMILY TREE

1/2/2020

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Picture...there's SOMETHING weird perched somewhere up there in our family tree...
Uncle Bobby says I hatched
from an 
egg with polka dots. 
He says my brother hatched from one
with 
pink and purple spots.

He says our mother sat on us
for forty-seven weeks
before we pecked our way to freedom
with our pointy orange beaks.


Uncle Bobby says the webs 
between our toes dissolved
and then our stubby wings fell out 
before our spindly arms evolved.
​

I think I don’t believe him.
But (just between you and me)?
There’s something strange perched somewhere 
up there in our family tree.



About this poem: When my boys were about three and four, the oldest asked if he'd come from an egg. I said yes, and continued with what I thought was a brilliantly simple yet accurate response. My listeners glazed over, then dismissed it as nonsense. So the next time he asked, I said, yes, they'd hatched from eggs alright—Malcolm's had a purple shell and Griffin’s was green. That was much more satisfying for all parties. There is a time and a place for lying, and it is in the home when you have small children. 
Writing this poem, I thought about how everyone feels like their family is a little bit (or a lot bit) strange and crazy. In real life, Uncle Bobby is a family friend. His knees do not bend backwards. At least not that I'm aware of.


​

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    author

    Ms. Betsy's oldest surviving poem is one she wrote in the third grade. "Down in the Sewer" didn't make her popular, but it made a small group of loyal fans very cheerful. Some of the latest poems she's written, "Poems of Galapagos," appeared in Cricket Magazine's July/August 2020 issue. She hopes they'll reach a wider audience than her first poem did, and make more people cheerful...and possibly provoke some thoughts, as well.

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  • Home
  • About
  • REGISTRATION
  • POETRY FOR KIDS
  • FOR ADULTS
  • ART PROJECTS AT HOME
  • SKETCHBOOK
  • Contact
  • PRIVATE LESSONS