There once was a family of six
Whose kids did not like limericks
Blake’s The Tyger they knew,
and The Highwayman too,
But each lim’rick Mom read, they would nix.
An ambitious young homeschooling father
Asked one day, “Must it be such a bother
to get the kids working?
Why are they still shirking?
Is there something to do they would rather?”
For us it is tougher to feed
Our kids greens, than to get them to read.
With their noses in books,
They ignore pointed looks
And peruse a long, zombified screed.
One tweenager often will rant
To the nearest onlooking house plant
That her work is unfair.
Then, she pulls at her hair
And shouts, “I cannot do it! I can’t!”
One day was so terribly rough
That I sat up and bellowed, “Enough!
Stop your moaning and crying
As if someone’s dying.
No-one cares if you think life is tough!”
And this one, courtesy of Mr. December:
There once was a kid with a temper
Whose anger we just couldn’t temper
She said “you’re a jerk”
And the chicken went “Berk!”
Having kids is a caveat emptor.
I think that I’ve written enough
And my tone is becoming too gruff
So this post I’ll retire
Lest a coup I inspire.
Back tomorrow, with some sort of fluff.