“The Fine Print”, by M.H. Schrader

With Apologies to Dr. Suess

(Published 5 March 1997 in the Neighborhood Journal. Posted in toto with Preface and Epilogue 7 October 2002.)

PREFACE -- Like the Valentine’s Day one two weeks prior, this column ranks as one of my all-time favorite columns. I consider this to be the most difficult column I have ever written, as the entire column is written in rhyme. During this period, I was consistently writing what I consider to be some of my best works.

This weekend, as I watched it rain and rain and rain and rain, I was reminded of The Cat In The Hat--please let me explain!

You see, my daughters were unable to play, because it was such a rainy day. In my house, I don’t need a Thing One and Thing Two; I’ve got something better--Kid One and Kid Two!

Now Kid One and Kid Two did not sit at the window and sit; they did not sit and sit and sit. They did not sit, one little bit. You see, Kid One and Kid Two had plenty to do; plenty to do that bothered you-know-who.

They ran and they screamed and they rassled about; they rassled about when their Mom was about. They sneezed and they teased, and they even ate cheese, and basically did whatever they pleased! They did all this when their Mom was about, they did, without a shadow of doubt.

What was Mom doing, where was she you say? She was taking care of the baby all day.

Where was their father, where was he if you please? Dad was on the sofa, getting some zees.

They played with their Barbies, Kid One and Kid Two. They played with the toy animals they got at the zoo.

They played with their cars and their trucks, they even played with their plastic ducks. Speaking of ducks I thought I did see, a couple of mallards out in my tree. Could it be? I would have to wait and see.

We watched the storms come, we watched the storms go, we wondered when it would be over, you know?

We heard the thunder boom, we watched the lightning crackle, and for some odd reason got a craving for Snapple. We asked ourselves “When will this rain ever end?’ and watched with awe all the tree branches bend.

On Sunday, Kid One was supposed to play soccer she wished, that would have only been possible if she were a fish. I went to check on the fields you know, and when I went out there the sign said “Welcome to Lake Doe-See-Doe.”

The fields were covered with water, they were a lake; they were only accessible if one was a drake. And being a human and not a duck, I knew there was only one thing to do--call off practice. Kid One went “Boo-hoo.”

Kid One was not the only one sad; heck, I have to admit it, so was Dad. Dad really wanted to play; he wanted to be out at least part of the day.

No barbecues this weekend, no, not a bit; the rain wouldn’t let up even one little drip. He needed to go to the store, but didn’t, not him; he thought it might be too far to swim. The yard was a pond, and the street a river, and that was too much effort just to buy a little liver.

I must confess, I would never buy liver; I just needed a word to rhyme with river.

The weather was so bad, it ruined whatever plans they had. Mom was supposed to go to ballet--but not a chance, not with the weather that day!

So Mom, you see, stayed home with Dad and Kids One through Three. And, as any Mom will say, it’s not the best way to spend a day.

Kid Three, you may recall, is a baby, that’s all! While Mom dotes on Kid Three, Kids One and Two see a golden opportunity! To get into trouble, such as kicking balls and blowing bubbles!

In the house? Surely you jest. Unfortunately no; that’s when the kids are at their mischievous best! With a ball they have broken a light bulb or two, causing a big hullabaloo!

Father gets annoyed you see, when he gets woken from his sleep! He tells Kids One and Two, not to make another peep! If they get too loud, it’s true, they will hear from you-know-who!

I guess it’s time for me to go, and put and end to this show. I am a little short this week, but I’ve run out of tongue to put in my cheek. The rain is done, it’s now history, so now ends our misery. Now, from me to you, a promise here--no more nursery rhymes--I swear!

EPILOGUE -- Because this column was so difficult to write, I have never duplicated its style.

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All contents & “The Fine Print” © 2002 by Michael Schrader.