Mush for Brains

I was telling Matt this morning how my brain has turned to mush and how it is doing nothing on a daily basis, but become mushier.  So, he challenged me to write something.  I replied back that I have NO TIME to actually concentrate on writing anything because children constantly interrupt me.  Then, because excuses do not become anyone, I told him that maybe I could write a poem.  I was looking at Hugo when I said it, and I was pretty sure I could come up with something.  So, he asked for it, and he got it:

Dimples

Smooth skin, so soft;

too new for a wrinkle to have formed.

Yet there they lie,

like two bowls, waiting to be filled with ice cream;

your nose is the cherry on top.

How can such a deep depression in your lovely face

be a sign of happiness?

But, sure as the mystery that is reflected in your eyes;

when I see them,

they make me smile.

 

So...it took me something like two minutes to write that...maybe three...it's possible I lost track of time, but I swear it was no more than five minutes.  During that time Hugo was playing nicely (ha!) in my cabinet.  He likes to take out my mixing bowls and bang on them like drums and pretend he is cooking. 

 

Or so I thought. 

 

When I rounded the corner to check on him, this is what I found:

 

 

And that is why I cannot finish a thing and why I have mush for brains.  Case closed. 

 

(Yes, that's Jet Dry in the bowl - and on the floor.  He poured out Jet Dry from the bottle, into the bowl and was mixing it.  I am lucky he wasn't drinking it!  And, before I receive lectures on locking my cabinets, the lock that was on this cabinet broke last week, very soon now to be replaced.)