The young boy and his Mama had been out the whole day through,
Running lots of errands, and then baseball practice, too,
The last thing on their list was stopping at the grocery store,
Both anxious to go home and get their feet up off the floor!
“Can I have Frozen Yogurt, Mom?” the boy asked anxiously,
He was hungry, hot and tired—put his heart into his plea,
Mama told him, “No, son,” as she pushed her cart along,
“We’re going home to dinner so to eat now would be wrong!”
But still the boy persisted, he was hungry, he was tired,
And frozen yogurt would prevent his spirits getting mired,
But his mom was firm and her son would not get his treat,
She told him to get in the car and buckled in his seat,
The boy tried one last time to sway his mama to his side,
By now it wasn’t hunger driving. No, it reeked of pride,
“Pleeease, oh pleeease!” he begged his Mom, his voice as sweet as honey,
She shook her head, said, “What d’you think? That I am made of money?!”
The boy just turned and looked as he was headed for the door,
“Gosh!” he said. “But isn’t that what M-O-M stands for?”
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen, Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
