Before I had a kid
I imagined that every Sunday
we’d research a new country
learn how to say thank you
and funny things like
you are a button lump.
I could picture myself telling friends
about his latest questions
like why can we feel our heart
but not our brain
and how I’d try to give him good answers
the kind you repeat
the kind you say when you’re older
my mom once told me this.
But here it is
Sunday again
we had enchiladas
but he had pasta
for the fifth day in a row
and as I read to him
about the four-and-twenty blackbirds in the pie
and the little piggy who had roast beef
I don’t quite have the heart
to tell him we’re vegetarian
and all that.
I did mention that humpty dumpty
was supposedly based on Richard the III
the last king to die in battle
which made him laugh a lot
and since it’s late by this time
and I want him to sleep
we move on to brown bear, brown bear
and every time he says fah
instead of frog
I whisper vague words of encouragement
and the moments merge
sweet and unremarkable
like one cloud
into the next.