This year our family beach vacation included the usual sun, sand, boogie boarding, drippy ice cream cones, games of Uno and Boggle, and something new — poetry night. I loved how seriously our youngest writers took this event.
My 4-year-old daughter and I worked together on her poem — she dictating and I dutifully recording. Now, suddenly shy, she does not want me to post her poem here. I respect the author’s copyright.
My newly-minted 8-year-old, independent in everything, vanished to another room to do his writing and illustrating:
I love to bungle in the jungle.
Every day the monkeys play,
but they look for danger in a special way.
Snakes and birds, they love to hide,
lions, jaguars in a pride.
Hippo and crocodile, they live together
by the Nile.
And that is what I have to say,
in the jungle, every day.
Here’s my entry. I had no title, but fortunately one of the 8-year-olds rescued me and suggested “On the Beach with Dad”