My weekly tradition for writing these entries follows a routine where I grab my Sunday coffee, curl up on the couch in a few moments of silence and let the words do what they will.  More often than not I don’t have a topic or theme in mind and will just go with whatever I’m feeling at that time.  I have no ‘agenda’ per se, though I do try and mix things up between the serious, the funny, the rhyme, and the clever (or at least what I think is clever).  This Sunday morning exercise is usually one that I seek and achieve on my own while the kids are still asleep, enjoying their weekend opportunity to bypass any alarms and do away with the stresses of getting (or not getting) onto the bus on time.  That’s how it normally goes, but today, for whatever reason, the kids have decided to wake early and, try as I might, it’s foolish for me to think that I could sit on the couch without them crawling all over me or taking interest in whatever it is I’m doing.  I suppose I shouldn’t complain that my kids want to spend time with me, but, seriously?  It’s the weekend!

Of course, my attempts at focus from this point are feeble – “What does that word say?”  “What are you writing about now?”  “Can you make me breakfast?”  ” Can we watch shows on your computer?”  “Why do you have so many tabs open?”  “Can we put up the Christmas decorations?” “Can we make cinnamon buns?” (hmm, that’s actually not a bad idea…) “How did this Christmas thing get started anyway?”  “What happens if time stops working?” …and so on, and so on, distraction after distraction, question after question, until they land on a one that I simply can’t ignore: “Can we write something too?”

So, instead of trying to fight this early morning disruption, I’m choosing instead to embrace it and feed their interest, sharing in this, my private Sunday ritual.  If they are curious about expression and the written word, then who am I to stop that?!  More specifically, they wanted us each to write a poem, and so without further ado, I give you poetry by The Beans.

It’s Fun to be Weird

by Phil Bean

I’d rather be weird than be boring
I’d rather explore than sit still
I’d rather be laughing than judging
I’d rather I follow my will

Being weird means I get to have fun,
Being weird means that I can sing nonsense
Being weird means that I can dance freely
Being weird means I don’t have to rhyme

Being weird means I get to be me.

Where Did The Green Grass Go?
by Audrey Bean

Green grass, green grass, what are you?
Green grass, green grass, who are you?
Green grass, green grass,  how are you?
Green grass, green grass, where are you?

Green grass, green grass, grew all around,
Green grass brought all the joy to the town.

Where did the green grass go?

Love
by Nora Bean

Love makes you feel good
Love makes you good
Love lets you have a friend and sing again tonight!

Love can be beautiful
Love can be tough
Love gets you partners
Love lets you have fun
Love lets you know people, and dance again tonight!

Love lets you have wonderful times
Love lets you love
Love lets you be kind
Love is the best!

I’m not entirely sure where their thoughts and inspirations come from, but I have to say that I’m impressed by how deep the mind of a 7 and 8 year old can go.  I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking that I don’t give kids enough credit for how they interpret the world, feelings, emotions, and ideas.  Their exercise in poetry makes me proud but also gave me more to think about today.   So, while I treasure my Sunday tradition and cherish the few moments I get to be on my own, I’ll make room for opportunity any time.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a craving for cinnamon buns.