Moooooog35
| Raisins are People - the poem |
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| Written by Moooooog35 | |
| Wednesday, 16 April 2008 | |
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Don't believe me? Yeah...probably a good idea. However, when you have children, there's all kinds of things you can corrupt their minds with. Lying, I find, is the fastest and most efficient way to do this. On my original blog, "Mental Poo", I wrote about my son's first field trip, in which I chaperoned. The adventure lead to one of my very first blog posts titled, "Raisins are People ." Now, not to plagiarize myself here, but I decided to take this idea and run with it a little further...in the form of a children's story. You'll find this story below. This is the first place I've ever written it publicly. Simon & Schuster...if you're reading this...call me. Enjoy your raisins.
Raisins Are People Raisins are people. It sounds silly, but true.I learned this on our field trip we took to the zoo. My chaperone there was my best friend Cam’s dad. He had to make sure that we wouldn’t be bad. He asked what my name was, how old I was, too. We talked about toys, my house, and my shoes.  On the bus ride we took, we played “rock, paper, lasers”Then we looked out the windows to find alligators. “Alligators don’t live here,” I said. “It’s too cold.” “Oh no, you’re mistaken,” he said. “They’re quite bold.” “You see in that swamp,” Cam’s dad said, “it’s been found to have oodles and oodles of gators around.” “A gator in winter?” I thought. How absurd. But Cam’s dad continued, “In fact, have you heard… “…that these seats where we sit, and on which we ride Are those very same gators. Seats made of their hides?” We rubbed our hands on the seats, on the top and the back They were green and all scaly, in some spots were cracks. It LOOKED like a gator, so I suppose it is true. I must tell my dad to make sure he knows, too. Cam’s dad told us stories, about airplanes and subs And he said, “In fact, Cam has an INVISIBLE tub.” “I want one!” I said. “That really sounds neat.” “Then just ask your dad,” Cam’s dad said. “It IS sweet.” “But what would you do,” he asked, “with such a tub?” “I’d tub ALL DAY LONG,” I said. “Take a very long scrub!” He said, “Surely you know when you tub way too much That your skin gets all wrinkly – like a raisin or such.” He leaned in real close, and I thought he was wrong But he said, “Raisins are people who’ve tubbed much too long.” “They shrivel and shrink, and when they’re really small Raisin packers come in and they collect them all.” “They put them in boxes and pack them in tight And send them to markets,” he said. Was he RIGHT? Could what I be eating for snack and for grub Really just be someone stuck in the tub?! Cam’s dad nodded to us both, “Oh sure, it is true.” But Cam and I wondered as we walked through the zoo. The zoo was fantastic, and when I got home I asked my dear dad about all I was told. “Seats aren’t from gators!” he said with a laugh. “That tale is as tall as a giant giraffe!” If THAT story was wrong, then the others may be too. I must ask my dad. He must have a clue. All those stories of gators, airplanes and subs? I’ll ask about raisins… …when he’s done building my tub.
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