Tag: Isaac

Mister Bug, the Musical

Here’s the demo track of Mister Bug recorded today with Andy Rapo. It’s a bit rough, but not bad considering how quickly we did it. Andy is a whiz in the home studio and has a pretty nice set up. That’s me singing and playing ukulele (in case you were wondering).

Mister Bug started out as a poem (trivia – my first rhyming poem) based on a comment from my three-and-half-foot muse about a bug he saw on the ceiling. After some great comments from my crit group, I expanded it to fit a picture book format. Then, last year I started thinking about song writing and this version kind of came together.

I still think it’s got pretty good picture book potential *cough* agents, editors *cough*

I “debuted” it in January at my first VCFA residency by coercing a room full of children’s writers to sing along on the chorus. It didn’t take a whole lot of arm-twisting, they’re a game bunch. Now this version is going out to a local songwriting contest, and I’m living the not-quite-a-Wiggle-dream.

I wonder if Laurie Berkner would like it?

The Empty Juice Box Blues – Poetry Friday

No, I don’t have a four-year old wunderkind that may, sometimes act up. Especially if there’s too much juice involved. Why do you ask?

The Empty Juice Box Blues

by Jim Hill

I’ve had me some timeouts,
My best friends are fools,
My teacher’s been on me,
For breaking the rules.

Don’t run in the classroom.
Keep your hands in your lap.
Sand’s not for throwing.
I’m caught in a trap!

There’s just no denying,
When something is true.
I’ve got the too-restless-for-nap-time.
Empty juice box blues.

Got pulled out of snack time,
For being a slob.
Had a small problem,
With a red jello blob.

Things didn’t go better,
At craft table time.
I turned my green paint
Into thick-booger-slime.

Now Mommy’s been called in,
Daddy’s coming too.
I’ve got the you’re-gonna-be-grounded
Empty juice box blues.

 


Elaine over at the Wild Rose Reader is hosting Poetry Friday this week. Pop over there and soak up some serious stanzas, couplets and stuff.

Imminent Growth Spurt – Poetry Friday

I had a different poem on deck for this week’s Poetry Friday, but then my four year old decided to eat everything for dinner. Seriously, everything. I expect he’ll wake up tomorrow and tell us that his legs hurt again. Good thing it’s almost shorts season.

I hope you’ll come back next week for The Empty Juice Box Blues.

Imminent Growth Spurt

by Jim Hill

Rotini and red sauce,
Two meatballs and cheese,
One glass of milk,
May I have more please?

Watermelon slices.
Yogurt that’s drinkable.
Honey graham bar.
This kid is unsinkable.

Still hungry, Daddy.
A cheese stick will do,
And peanut butter toast
When that is gone too.

He ate for an hour,
slept an hour times ten,
And when he woke up
He was bigger again.

It’s a pattern repeating,
We’ve learned to adjust,
He just might keep growing,
Six-foot-seven or bust.

A Funny Story About Monkeys and Pants

I’ve had a lot of fun showing off giving out my new card to just about anyone that shows the tiniest bit of interest in what I do. But more than a few folks have asked why the monkey is wearing pants. Well, there’s a funny story that goes with that particular character design, so pull up a chair and set a spell.

A few months ago my three year old son started calling almost all of his stuffed animals “her”, “she” or giving them girl names. Now, I don’t have a problem with that, I’m more Alan Alda than Charlton Heston, and if he wants to explore gender issues with his toys, so be it. But I was curious, so I decided to ask him when the time was right.

Later that week we were going through the bedtime routine; read two stories, one last trip to the potty, back to bed for snuggling (awwww….). He decided he wanted the little elephant that I called Eubie but he insisted was Ellie. Great, thinks I, here’s my chance.

“Isaac, why do you think so many of your stuffed animals are girls?”

He picked up the elephant, turned it around so the back end was facing me and, with the sincerity that only a child can muster said,

“Look, Daddy, no bulbs.”

Yep, Isaac had gleaned that fact the boys have “bulbs” and girls do not (gosh they grow up so fast).

And that’s why the monkey wears pants. No snot nosed kid is going to tell me that Little Mister Monkey is really Little Miss Monkey ’cause he’s got no junk. And I’m not about to start drawing anatomically correct animals for kids. Besides, who wants to do that research? (Never google anything about animal genitals, I beg you).

I'm all boy. Take my word on it.
I say we believe him.

 

A Father’s Day Poem

isaac-baby-handOn Father’s Day

On Father’s Day
the sound
of feet
running to
your room
is a wonderful thing.

On Father’s Day
breakfast with your son
squirming in your lap
elbowing you
in the head
and eating your fruit
is a wonderful thing.

On Father’s Day
thinking about your Dad,
wondering about the things
you might’ve shared
if life had been different,
is a troubling thing.

On Father’s Day
being the Dad you
wished you had,
breathing in each moment,
being a Dad at all,
is a wonderful thing.