Tuesday Teatime

Tuesday Teatime was held outside in our play fort. We grabbed popsicles and a book of poetry, climbed up, hunkered down, and read.

Our book was Cynthia Rylant's Boris. Boris is a cat, and cats are always popular subjects for poetry at our house. Cynthia Rylant has written an entire book of free verse about Boris and her relationship to him.

Several of the poems were above 6 year old Kid2's head. When we read about Boris in the vet's office swaggering out "with the latest copy of Cat Fancy in one paw and a martini in the other," she wasn't quite sure what was being described. "Is that a kind of doggy treat?" she asked. No, honey, it's a drink, a human drink, and don't worry if you don't quite understand - it's a little old for you. The point today is to enjoy the parts you do understand, and also see that people write poetry about everything, simply everything. And there are many silly, enjoyable-by-a-6-year-old moments in the book.

Kid1, at the sage old age of 10, declared that she really "got" the imagery. Hmmm, I wonder. I silently mused that good poetry (and prose) tells us something new year after year as we grow older. For now, though, it's okay to enjoy the bits and pieces we understand, sitting in a fort high above the ground with lemon popsicles in hand.