I couldn't help myself today. I had to write down some of the rhymes that fly out of my mouth during the course of the day when I'm giving orders or just talking to my son. I call it Housewife Poetry. I'm sure you've uttered a few astonishingly rhyming verses yourself.
"Supper is hot and ready;
We just need a Daddy."
"Not using your brain
Is a bad thang."
I'm surrounded everywhere
by dirty underwear.
(It was laundry day).
And yesterday's utterance:
"Son, don't run with your gun."
He didn't. And here's what happened. (x3)
Have a happy day.
TCB
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