“I’m done with this, Mom.”
Well, I am definitely NOT.
This tiny George will stay
On my shelf’s specialest spot.

Clutched in your chubby hand,
He went everywhere that year.
He convinced you to speak monkey
Until the doctor checked your ears.

He was lost and found and lost,
But we never left him behind.
I searched the zoo for a monkey
That was not so easy to find.

He dug dirt with his head,
Stomped dinos with his feet.
He sat at the dinner table
And pretended to loudly eat.

He led armies of animals at war
Across the old orange carpet,
Until the opposing General Giraffe
Fell down the counter escarpment.

He watched himself with you
On those days your nose was runny.
He never failed to laugh at himself.
He was oo-oo-ah-aah funny.

You haven’t carried him for years.
You’d much rather have a phone.
But I will carry the you that did
Here in George’s forever home.

When my son was two, he was in the habit of carrying a plastic animal or two everywhere he went. He was also a huge Curious George fan–so much so that he spoke a mixture of Monkey and English for a long time. His doctor told me that we really needed to encourage English, and I countered that bi-lingualism was all the rage. This little guy was a cake topper I found on Amazon. He’s seen some things, man, but since he only speaks Monkey, we’ll never know.

The things that adventured with your kids have special places, just like their friends steal pieces of your heart later. This little time capsule sits on a shelf where I can see him while I work. The kids may be on to the things that they should be, like ditching mom and dad to hang out at the camp park, or cutting holes in skirts to make “dresses” that are two inches below her navel, but George is happy to remind me of a time when I could sit with a child on my lap and watch a monkey get into shenanigans. Ooo ooo, ah ooo ah AH.

Ps. This is the last day of August! Thanks for hanging out for the poems, some were less bad than others. I really have to get to work on final revisions to my short story compilation, Bitches and Dead People, and I’m six chapters into the sequel to The Tiny Giant, working title “The Hunted Giant.” I’ll continue to update here on any book releases and if the mood strikes me…I might have another poem in me someday. This year was hard, and given that I’ve done this 92 times, I’m going to be satisfied with that for a bit. Probably until next August, when I’ve forgotten how much work it is and convince myself that it’ll be “fun.”