Haiku Mama

I didn't have the time or sanity to mention yesterday that the little haiku I tapped out on my keyboard was totally inspired by a book that the Husband's Aunt L bought while visiting last weekend. The four of us (Papoosekin included) were hanging out at our local caffeine refueling station, which also carries some of the best little gifts known to man. L and I were laughing riotously at this book. Thankfully, they also make one for papas because the Husband was missing the Mama jokes entirely.

Here's a sampling from Haiku Mama by Kari Anne Roy (best read, in your head, with a Japanese accent. Or out loud, if you don't think you'll get sent to cultural sensitivity training by your manager):

Flickering bright lights;
sound and stories called "movies."
They still exist, right?

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Learning the "mom look":
Squint eyes, frown mouth, point finger.
But try not to laugh.

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Swingset has no brakes.
Revelation to young child
as he's kicked in the mouth.

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Why the funny look?
Color of baby's poopies
not fascinating?

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Textured wall upgrade
not really worth the money
filled with finger paint.

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Hyper-exhaustion
sounds like an oxymoron
unless you are two.