Jokes and Ditties

cropped-p1100192.jpgHe just keeps on running

I wrote this for my son when he was six, the rest of the family were trying to eek out the last of the Saturday morning sleep in and he had got up to get ready for his first football game.  He is a good little long distance runner now, so still running but without quite so much mess.  I leave it here now, to remind him to be patient if he ever has a little runner of his own.




He opened his eyes and jumped out of bed, off down the hall he eagerly sped

Into the bathroom to visit the loo, did the thing there that all of us do

Out through the door with a speeding of pace, oops, back again quickly to wash hands and face

He must wash his hands as he’d been to the loo, it does waste some time, but you really should do.

Back through the door to the kitchen he raced, grabbing a bowl, not a second to waste

He needed a spoon and some milk from the fridge, allowed honey on Weet-bix but only a smidge

The doors were all  banging as he opened and shut, from out of the bedroom he heard a loud tut

                   SLOW DOWN DAVID


He piled it all high and crept to the table,  put it all down too fast and unstable

The Weet-bix all crumbled and slid from its box, then the milk overflowed soaking into his socks

The honey was runny, such a sticky affair, and yes you have guessed, ended up in his hair

All did not matter, he had to be quick, a beard made of cereal, it could seriously stick

Spooning it in with no mind to the mess, a little too fast he had to confess

His breakfast was sloppy and splashed all about, he got a lot in but lost a lot out

It had stuck to his chin his neck and his vest so he tried to clean up, doing his best

But the spoon got away and clanged to the floor, as he  tried to retrieve it he heard it once more



On the floor, in the milk and all that had dropped, he searched for that spoon but suddenly stopped

Mum’s slipper’s appeared where that spoon had just been, one of them tapping as she took in the scene.

‘The table, your socks, just look at your face, you must have been moving at quite a fast pace.

I will say it again, I have said it before, please be more careful, just look at my floor!

Go and clean up now, wash under your chin” running away you could see where he’d been

His feet felt all squishy he hadn’t noticed before, and he made milky footprints on the clean floor.

Again for that morning he filled up the sink, wrestled the soap which was smelly and pink

He could not hold onto such a slippery thing, it shot through the air hit the light with a ping.



Mum came to the bathroom, in all the commotion the soap had rebounded and knocked over some lotion.

She looked at the mess, slowing shaking her head, go and get changed now and please make your bed

He pulled off his socks, kicking them high, the milk made them heavy, they really did fly

Skidding into his bedroom, he let out a shout, he’d trodden on Lego that he had left out

That loud shout was loud, and it woke up his dad and also his sister which would be bad

Indeed, he could hear her shouting his name and sure enough, soon she came in to complain

He tried to tell her it wasn’t his fault, he tried to do things the way he’d been taught

Dad joined in too as he’d got out of bed, they lectured him now and together they said



He sat on his bed and looked at the floor, as all the instructions came in through his door

He was wondering now about the brick that he’d struck, and remembered last night he’d been building a truck

Dad was still talking, “did you hear what I said?” thinking of finishing he nodded his head

He looked round the room and it was still there, pushed under his bed next to his bear

He’d build it some more, build it much bigger, add on a bucket make it a digger

He began building and by now you should know, did so with speed, he could never be slow

The time kept on passing and he kept on going, building it bigger no chance of him slowing

He tried to stand up but slipped over instead, the bricks all went crashing down under his bed.



Dad came back in angrily shaking his head, saw all the mess and sat down on the bed

The truck was in pieces, a mountain of bricks, soft words now “it will be easy to fix”

Dad left the room with a smile on his face, as a young boy he used to race

His mind moved on quickly, thoughts of soccer instead, he remembered the strip laid out on his bed

Remembered then why he was too quick to catch, today was the day of his first soccer match

He put on his socks but forgot about pads, shin pads go first just like his dad’s

He got in a pickle with socks, pads and laces, losing all time made up by his races

The faster he went the more tangled he got, the others were ready he was just sweaty and hot


Son, I love you.  Always run towards life, never away.









Is anybody out there listening to me??

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