Morgan and the Book of Poems

I recently gave the girls a copy of Shel Silverstein's "A Light in the Attic", which was one of my favorite collection of poems as a kid. In second grade, we memorized poem after poem to recite in front of the class.  To this day, I see the title of a poem, like "Bear in There" or   "Fancy Dive", and instantly, I'm spitting out stanzas like I'm back in Mrs. Mahoney's class.

This morning, while I was straightening up, Morgan was sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the floor with the book in her lap.  In between flipping the pages, she was ticking off a list of things that she wanted to see, places that she wanted to go, and things that she wanted me to buy for her.  Currently, tops on the list is a trip to Build-A-Bear Workshop.  I told her and Coever that I would take them there for their respective birthdays, hoping that would be the end of it. But of course, that is never the end of that.

"But Mom, I really, really, really, really want to go build my own bear," Morgan implored.  She folded her hands together, bringing them up under her chin and doing her best Puss in Boots eyeball routine.  You know, this one. . .

 I again reminded her, "For your birthday," and then told her to go back to reading the book.  "Why don't you read me some poems that we can write about later ?" I suggested.  We've got a summer reading journal going, but that's another post for another day.  I turned back to the bed where I was putting on some fresh sheets.  "How about," I continued, "you pick out a few poems that you like."

"Mmmkay," she said.  Flip, flip, flip went the pages.  I couldn't tell if she was looking for a particular poem that she'd read before or if she was just looking at illustrations that caught her eye.  Flip, flip, flip.  "Got one!" she said and began to read.

Little Abigail and the Beautiful Pony

by Shel Silverstein

There was a girl named Abigail

Who was taking a drive

Through the country

With her parents

When she spied a beautiful sad-eyed

Grey and white pony.

And next to it was a sign

That said,

FOR SALE- CHEAP.

"Oh," said Abigail,

"May I have that pony?

May I please?"

And her parents said,

"No you may not."

And Abigail said,

"But I MUST have that pony."

And her parents said,

"Well, you can't have that pony,

But you can have a nice butter pecan

Ice cream cone when we get home."

And Abigail said,

"I don't want a butter pecan

Ice cream cone,

I WANT THAT PONY-

I MUST HAVE THAT PONY."

And her parents said,

"Be quiet and stop nagging-

You're not getting that pony."

And Abigail began to cry and said,

"If I don't get that pony I'll die."

And her parents said, "You won't die.

No child ever died yet from not getting a pony."

And Abigail felt so bad

that when they got home she went to bed,

And she couldn't eat

And she couldn't sleep,

And her heart was broken,

And she DID die-

All because of a pony

That her parents wouldn't buy.

**Morgan then turns to Coevers and reads the last lines of the poem**

(This is a good story

to read to your folks

When they won't buy

you something you want.)

When she started reading, I kind of vaguely remembered this poem and I glanced over my shoulder to see the picture.  From my vantage point, the book was upside down and all I could see was the girl in the bed. 

Here's the illustration from the book.  The mom saying"Oh if she were only alive I would buy her a hundred ponies!" And the dad is saying, "Oh....what fools we were."

  

I thought it was some kind of princess thing (hello, canopy bed), but as Morgan continued to read and it all came back to me.  Somewhere around the line, "If I don't get that pony, I'll die," I knew exactly where this was headed.I even turned to Morgan and said, "Really? This is the poem you want to read." She nodded and kept going.  Her elocution was flawless. 

Boy, I tell you what.  A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.