poetry

baby-j has taken to standing again on the boot box next to the couch, as he did a few months back. Now, though, he does pliés, and shouts his original poetry while using his hands to express himself. This is this week's poem:

I see...
a piece a' me, a piece a' me

I see it!
I see it!

Oh. Wait.

I saw... a piece a' me, a piece a' me.

I see it!

(stomp. stomp.)

(hurls self onto couch.)