To be sung to the tune of “Sound of Music” (picked up at the “hills are alive” part).
Sure, you say, it will come once again to town
We can see it next year
But the problem is that fate has let me down
Can’t be cavalier
It’s clear to me now
That the show was for Baba, and how
This child-rearing stuff
Ain’t a bed of roses
There’s so much to learn
So much goes astray
Tibetans might say
I should try sand painting
But I’m booked today.
[“Show? What show?” you say? Backstory here.]
Oh, I’m sorry about the show…and the fever…and the special challenge that is parenting. I hope that you are feeling well soon.
Ah, thanks. I tell you, little in my parenting journey has reached the sorrowful pathos of my drawing adorable whiskers on one member of the little entourage (you know, “raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens”), knowing that we were going nowhere fast. They stayed quarrantined on the front porch (arrived just as the thermometer provided the decisive intel), and inside, the lil’ monkey was singing “My Favorite Things” duets with her Auntie Rache. I’m hoping for a miriacle turnaround before the run’s over on Sunday. Otherwise, there’s always next year. **Sighs melodramatically.**
You all were sorely missed!
I hope it is some consolation that the bewhiskered kitten had a blast (as did all the others in our party), and she was very impressed with your enthusiasm while drawing the whiskers!
A cuter kitten there ne’r was seen. I heard for the costume contest, a guy walked up with a nametag that read “Me.” “Me, a name, I call myself.” Brilliant. And that Our Family / Mamas + Papas had choice seats roped off, and kept everybody in popcorn. Bless ’em.
Oh no, how rotten for you. Hope you do get to go some time.
I’m so sorry to laugh at your loss….but this quite literally just made me spit out my coffee. Not really the spit-take kind…but the laugh and snort so hard it dribbles out of my lower lip kind.