every once in awhile connor informs me that he will be dictating a story to me. it is at this time that i am expected to rush around as fast as i can to grab pencil and paper, and then i must tell him to "stop a minute" every few seconds so i can catch up.

the other day he told me he was writing a poem. except that I was going to actually do the writing, naturally.

I thought that my husband's recent picture went with it well:

Wild Things
by connor

At night is when the wild things wake up.
When you sleep is when they wake up.
But you don't see them you think them.
And you see them in your dream.
So next time why don't you start thinking
about the Wild Things before you go to bed?

connor was very proud of this poem. for some reason he thought he was very avant garde for not making it rhyme.