It's obviously time to start jabble-ing!

So, I've finally decided to write... I don't know how often I'll get down to this, but I suppose it's time all the same. Regardless of what the yay-sayers and nay-sayers of this blog might think, this is my stuff!!! You know, stuffff... . n. 1. The inner gunk that flies out of a person for a variety of reasons. That said, today I'll keep it short.



I want to discuss kids. Kids are the most delicious candy known to mankind... metaphorically speaking of course. My 5 are a lovely lot. All boys! Strange in the modern Western-world to be sure... I shan't rant on that. I love their delicious qualities when I can get at them, but tonight was a different story... Tonight was about patience; the kind of patience that can only be learned when a whole household is down sick and viscosity is at an all time low. How unfortunate to be sure. Nevertheless, cleaning after them can be a very purifying experience, inwardly.


I met a wee boy who puked on his bed,
He looked up at me, and 'sorry' he said.
He gazed at the bedding,
he gazed at his clothes,
he gazed at the pillow,
he gazed at his toes
and then with a solemn and graceful exhaust,
'I got some in the bucket' he tossed.


Those graceful words,
at me they were thrown.
For nary an hour before had I sworn.
'If you have to pour forth you innards for sooth,
hit the bucket wee laddie for all that your worth.
If ya miss it my son, there will be quite a mess
and clean it, I'll not, while on earth I draw breath!'


'A hand will fall down from the heavens' boasted I,
'an your bottom will have to bellow and cry.'
'enough ruined bedding and clothes hath you left,
from your previous up-chuckings to last me till death.'
And despite that arrogant, grown-up, bluster
he surely did climb with the strength he could muster

up did he climb, up to his bed,
biding his time, not a word was said,
till the moment presented its auspicious blow,
and thundering forth his innards did flow.

Perhaps you feel this slightly exuberant
possibly you find it too heavy on lubricant,
I merely assure you, this is not the case
for the elder's wee brother below made the case
and brought me alas to the scene with a chase

It was he, the littler, upchucking son
crying for mommy, flapping his tongue.
Indeed it was he that made me rush up
to the scene of the crime
pleading for help.

Alas too late in life do I learn
you attract bees with honey, with a paddle you spurn,
the children had sadly lambasted their beds
'the cleanup's your lot' said God in my head

Indeed 'the hand' from the heavens had fallen,
fallen on me, to comfort the ballin'
fallen on me, to clean up the mess,
fallen on me, I feel such distress.

I suppose I remember my parent's frustration,
there certainly wasn't undue jubilation
when way in the past, such a long time ago
in a far away place, chunks did I blow!

Perhaps with a little, patience, will I,
endure for my children, before I do die.
But let it be known, before I pass on,
Learn to hit the damn toilet,
the bed's for sleepin' on!