We're laid up nicely here, with various cold symptoms. The kids all have the cough and the sniffles, and I have the sinus headache and the full-body ache. But illness can't keep a good wordsmith down. Here is some poetry that Eleanor is attributing to the great poet Annonimus.
Mom your the best.
Oh mother I love you.
The mom is good.
How can the mom be good.
End of the mom is near.
Rise up mom and start the car! It's the end of the world.
Father we love you.
Always we seek you.
The cat eats father.
How will you meet a moose?
End of the dad is nearing.
Rotate your body to see your doom! The cat is hungery!?!
Boring boy how can you live?
Reading e-mail is faitil!
On end you fiddle with the mouse!
The keyboard is the spiders web!
His web traps you with games and music.
Eternaly you stare at lighted screen and vidio!
Regularly your eyes square up! The hours tick by your days are numberd! Get away from the screen!
Sinester girl you are a threat!
In silence you plot evil!
Sneakely your mind builds plans.
The gears in your head turn twords candy.
En route exactly to crime.
Rumor says you are plotting D-day. All figures tremble before you. Go brush your teeth!
I don't know what to call this sweet new style, but Annonimus certainly shares the zaniness of the Darwin children.
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