Dr. Seuss can bite me

The sun did not shine.
It was too wet to play.
We were cooped up in the house
All that cold, cold, wet day.

I sat there with Isaiah.
Manny dug through the trash.
And I mumbled how'd I rather
eat soot and ash.


Too wet to go out.
And too cold to ride bikes.
So we sat in the house.
Just me and the tykes.


And they whined, "Mom! I'm still hungry!
Let's color! Play ball!"

I couldn't hide from their demands.
Not a second, not at all.

The fun cat did not come
to our house on this day.
"And I'm not the cat!"
I emphatically say.


But that didn't change things.
Oh no, it did not.
I'm the cook, clown, ball-catcher
and wiper o' snot.

So we painted, played Mouse Trap
and ate peanut butter,
and found lots of lost toys.
My poor hair torn asunder.


But survive we did
(though the day is not through).
That cat sets a high standard.
Who could meet it? Tell me WHO?


Who, in their right mind,
Wants to stand on a ball,
While balancing crap that will
inevitably fall?!


And if ever I meet that dumb cat
This I'll do:
I will tell him where he can shove
His Thing One and Thing Two.

(Though, perhaps it'd be wise
to re-think my timing
until I find out
where he scored this sweet thing!)