Lately I’ve been “burning the candle at both ends” as the idiom goes. As I lay in bed, trying to sleep, but not getting there, I started working on every technique I could think of. I counted sheep. I counted hippopotamuses. I did 4-7-8 breathing (I almost hyperventilated). I tried reliving my day. I finally reached my last idea: story time. I began reciting Good Night Moon but kept stopping myself at the ridiculousness of some of the rhymes and in my addled state I began thinking up my own version of Good Night Moon. Here it is:
In a cozy little home,
there was a pink flamingo and a garden gnome.
A sink full of dishes,
And scattered cheese goldfishes.
A pile of laundry half wadded, half folded,
A sippy cup, I pray hasn’t molded.
A forgotten cartoon,
And a hard, dried, out playdough goon.
Good night goon.
Good night cartoon.
Good night laundry half folded and cup that has molded.
Good night goldfishes and good night dirty dishes.
Good night flamingo and gnome.
Good night cozy home.