Jo an’ Tom: an inseparable pair— Been livin’ by no rules but their own. Don't doubt Jo’s by the river, those ribbons in her hair, Watchin’ Tom chase after his bone. Millie’s my name, and I’m Jo’s ma, Though sometimes I’m ashamed to be. Those muddy prints in the house (a hand an’ a paw)— Well, we’ll just say they wasn’t made by <i>me</i>. Honestly! That ragamuffin child, that ragamuffin mutt: They ain’t nothin’ but trouble on six legs. Breakin’ my china and actin’ all rough, Tom gettin’ treats from each person he begs. Laws! Jo an’ Tom, they’s prancin’ the day through, Causin’ their mischief well into the night. If I didn’t have my virtues, Lord knows what I’d do; I’d sure set Jo an’ Tom right! “Mama Millie,” says Jo, “it was an accident, I swear!” She points to the hole in her brand-new jeans. “I was runnin’ from these thieves—a gypsy pair— When I slipped and fell in the ravine!" Jo smiles a bright smile and pats her mutts head, Givin’ me that innocent pout. “I laid there for hours; I thought I was <i>dead</i>— ‘Till Tom came and fished me right out!” “Now, Jo,” I says, “them pants can be mended— Your stories got no purpose on me.” And I thought she would cry, lookin’ utterly offended. “B-But honest, Tom an’ me was chased by thieves!” Heavens. Shakin’ my head, I lead her upstairs When suddenly, I see her knee’s torn and swelled. “Jo,” I gasp, “what happened to ya there?!” She sighs, “Mama, I told ya I fell.” So’s I stop for a minute and look right at Tom, Who's smilin’ and sniffin’ the country air, And I think for a second that I just might be wrong ‘Bout the two bein’ a mischievious pair. Whelp! Jo draws a bath while I start with her jeans, Pullin’ the needle an’ thread through. And when she shows up in PJs, I know what that means: “Nine o’clock! Now it’s bedtime for you!” The crickets and cicadas are singin’ in the dark, With their <i>reees</i>, <i>chirp-chirps</i>, and <i>clicks</i>. I’m thinkin’ about Jo—she just has t’leave her mark! When she says, “Thanks for makin’ my pants fixed.” Oh, she’s just <i>gotta</i> change history, her an’ that mutt. Guess there’s bound to be trouble ‘long the way. Just take it one thing at a time—bruises, bangs an’ cuts— And save your real strength for the comin’ day. Finally! Jo climbs into bed. There’s still soap foam in her hair. I brush the bubbles away with my thumb. “Sorry,” she says. “Must’a washed <i>too</i> good there.” That dog wags his tail, smilin’ dumb. So’s I tuck Jo in bed and turn out the light With that Tom restin’ right at her feet. Then… I think back one more time, knowin’ I’m right. ‘Cause they <i>ain’t</i> mischievious... that is, when they’s <i>asleep</i>...
Reason for writing:
Ahh... it's great to be a kid and have a mother who understands your escapades (sometimes). Inspired by my neighbor, Lee-Anne.
Birth sign: Virgo
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