iCare
“That patch is your iPad?”
“Yeah, I got it for Christmas.”
“What happened?”
“I impaled myself with a blunt pair of scissors.”
“That hadda hurt.”
“Not so much, since the swelling’s gone down.”
“No, I mean confusing a pad for your eye with an iPad.”
“Say again?”
“Your parents got you an eye patch, not an iPad.”
“You’re just mad ‘cause you didn’t get one.”
“I want a tablet, not a pirate accessory.”
“What’s the difference?”
“You think like a toddler.”
“I’m almost three, same as you.”
“Didn’t you see the commercial?”
“They must have put me down for a nap.”
“Well, an iPad watches movies, listens to music, contacts friends, and reads books.”
“What’s reads books?”
“I’m not sure, but the commercial said iPad will teach us.”
“Then I still want one.”
“So do I.”
“What if we start crying?”
“They’ll just change our butt pads.”
1 comments:
the title: splendid.
This poem reminds me of the mom who told her kid that peas were ice cream. It was not until he was four he found out he was tricked. Or like my Finn, who at three saw me eating white cake at a birthday party and came up and said, Hey Mom, can i have some of your tofu? And my friend Sue, who was throwing the party, said "You give that boy cake right now!"
Good job thinking like a toddler ... and a very wise toddler, too.
something about that last line is not quite right yet ... what is it. i get the connection between butt pad and ipad, but still i think it needs to be a little tweaked. Maybe go back to the eye pad, and something about how if they cry at least they will take the eye patch away?
Ar.
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