Saturday, November 28, 2009

Meat Loaf, by Linda Knaus and Kenn Nesbitt

My mother made a meat loaf
but I think she made it wrong.
It could be that she cooked it
just a little bit too long.

She pulled it from the oven;
and we all began to choke.
The meatloaf was on fire
and the kitchen filled with smoke.

The smoke detectors squealed
at all the flaming meatloaf haze.
My father used his drink
to try extinguishing the blaze.

Mom shrieked and dropped the meat loaf;
it exploded with a boom,
and splattered blackened globs on
every surface in the room.

The dog passed out. The kitten hid.
My brother screamed and fled.
The baby ate a piece of meat loaf
sticking to her head.

My father started yelling
and my sister went berserk.
But I kept cool and said, "at least
our smoke detectors work."


Friday, November 27, 2009


Well. All I ate for dinner last night was grapes and punch.
I choose not to be tempted by the stuffing, turkey, cranberry relish, rolls, corn, asparagus, mashed potatoes or gravy.

I did have some pie this morning and frankly, I have no idea why I went to bed before it was served.

This morning I served Mom breakfast in bed Simeon style. I brought her three Tupperware containers of cheerios so she could transfer them back and forth and eat at will.

May your day be restful.
May your mind be made up.
May you focus on Christ.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

She may be pregnant.... but....

My mother may be pregnant, but certainly it warranted some tears. Mom and I had a date last night, complete with popcorn and a movie.

Pixar's latest film "UP" is just about the most well-made and genuine animated film I have seen yet. In a mix of classical music and scenes, it had mom and I laughing and then crying, within the first 10 minutes of the film. That's impressive. In fact, the whole film was impressive.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Locking it In

Dad held a Lock In at the church all night long last weekend for teen guys of the church and community. Mom and I got to be there a bit the night before and then we went and made pancakes in the morning.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Saying Goodbye



Goodbye can be a tough thing.

Holes in your shoes during winter from pushing your train around the city of Lynn just won't cut it.

Mom sabotaged my Thomas shoes one night while I slept.

As I dreamed of bouncy balls and strawberries, mom chopped them up, glued them up, and served Thomas up on a new pair of shoes.

And soon thereafter, I laid to rest the shoes I had worn every day since spring.

To the trash can, poor shoes. To the trash can, beloved.

Dad cried.

He said "There's just so many memories on these shoes. Like here is the spot where Sim's foot got caught in the wheel of the bike at the beach. . . "

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Way to Go Paul!!!!

Congratulations Paul!
Cousin Simeon

Friday, November 13, 2009

Sim's Top Ten at 2 years and almost 4 Months

1. My Thomas shoes
2. Bubbles
3. Dancing
4. Helping mom cook and bake
5. My toy train, which includes: Riding my toy train. . . around the house and also around our city on my walks with Dad. Watching TV while sitting on my toy train. . .Storing snacks in the toy train seat. . . Running over things while on the train. . . Taking the train into the tub. . . Running into walls, furniture, and people on the toy train. . .
6. Thomas the Tank Engine
7. Escalators
8. Laughing
9. Blueberry pancakes and sausage and fruit and fruit and fruit and more fruit
10. Wrestling and jumping on my parent's bed
10.5 Milk!

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

To Bed

Lately I have been taking a few trains to bed with me every night. I pile them under my chest for a sweet night of dreaming.

Tonight I surprised mom when I gathered the handle (that comes off) from our broom, a sock, the diaper rash cream, an "S" from my puzzle, and my drink up.

And I sleep well.

Sweet dreams.

Sunday, November 1, 2009


Over generalization is here.
I choose not to say "Mum," Mother," or "Mommy."

This week I called all the ladies on the back of the Cheerios box "mommy" and so my mother, Abigail Bowne, remains nameless.

She says it's developmental and soon I will distinguish her, in name, from all other women.

I know who she is.
Why the heck doesn't she read this blog?

The Elf formerly known as Clay

Mom and I at the Beach

Clay and I

Mom and Clay