How Many?


Mom, how many fish in the ocean?
How many peas in a pod?
How many steps up to Heaven
would there be if I went to see God?


How many hugs is too many?
How many bees in a swarm?
How many teeth will fit in my mouth?
How many flakes in a snowstorm?


If it takes one night to count fireflies,
would it take two nights to count stars?
How many roads can there be in a mile?
How many miles is too far?


How many hairs do I have on my head?
Why did Daddy’s hairs all fall out?
If I count all day long then get tired,
how many numbers am I able to count?


How many bricks in a building?
How many leaves in a tree?
How can you count how old someone is
if you only can count what you see?


When I get big, I’ll be a teacher.
I’ll show kids how to count every way.
Mom, if I do teach them counting,
how many children can I teach every day?


I wish I could know every number.
I’m gonna try ‘cause it’s fun to do.
There are so many things to be counted ...
but only ONE me and ONE you.

The Oatmeal Armpit Band


Would you like to make some music?
We'll play whatever we can.
Anything’s okay if you wanna play
in the Oatmeal Armpit Band.


I drum spoons on an oatmeal box.
My brother strums rubber bands.
Anything’s okay if you wanna play
in the Oatmeal Armpit Band.


Daddy burps his armpits.
(If you watch, you’ll understand).
Anything’s okay if you wanna play
in the Oatmeal Armpit Band.


Sissy plays a xylophone.
You can play, I know you can!
Anything's okay if you wanna play
in the Oatmeal Armpit Band.


Mommy clangs some pot lids.
Would you like to clap your hands?
Anything’s okay if you wanna play
in the Oatmeal Armpit Band.


Some kids snap their fingers.
Or here, come bang some pans!
Anything’s okay if you wanna play
in the Oatmeal Armpit Band.


Maybe you could make loud pig sounds
or a kazoo, now that's a plan!
Anything’s okay if you wanna play
in the Oatmeal Armpit Band.


It doesn’t matter what we use.
We'll play whatever we can!
Anything’s okay if you wanna play
in the Oatmeal Armpit Band!

To A Baby Firefly


Little baby firefly 
when your night is through, 
does your mommy tuck you in
and tell you she loves you? 


Does she kiss your forehead 
and say in morning's light ... 
"Day-day little sleepy head, 
close your eyes, blink out your light." 

Naps


I've tried to tell my mother
I don't need a nap for me.
Naps are just for babies --
but we just don't agree.


I'm much too big to take one
and I've tried to tell her that,
but Mom will never understand
why I don't want a nap.


So every day I lay here
with nothing else to do.
Sometimes I even fall asleep
-- and I think that she does, too.

Bats


Bats can hit a baseball.
Girls can bat their eyes.
But the bats I want to talk about
fly with radar in the skies.


Bats are cute and furry
and I think bats are cool.
If I could only catch one
I’d bring it in to school.


I’m sure you think they’re creepy.
They might even make you scream.
But where’d we be without a bat
on scary Halloween?


I know it’s hard to like them,
it isn’t automatic.
Mom and Dad don’t mind them though
IF ... they don’t live in our attic.

Sleepytime Prayer


God bless my bedroom.
God bless my bed.
God bless the pillow
where I lay my head.


God bless my mommy
and bless my dad, too.
They chase away monsters
that live in my room.


God bless my brother.
Bless my dog and my cat,
and OK, my sister,
even though she's a brat.


Thanks God, and Amen.
Now up off my knees.
Wait!  I forgot something!
God bless me too, please.

Paintin' Feelings


How do I paint happy?
How do I paint sad?
How do I paint angry,
when someone makes me mad?


How do I paint feelings?
They're not something that you see.
And yet, they're so important
in my pictures about me.


Today I thought about it.
I think what I will do --
is paint what feelings stand for.
It's easy (I think), too.


When I'm feelin' happy,
I'll paint the sky bright blue.
If sad is what I'm feeling,
then the tears I'll paint are too.


If what I feel is angry,
I'll paint my mouth a GREAT BIG "O",
'cause Mommy says about angry,
"Get it out, then let it go."

Pretty Flower


I found a pretty flower,
food for bees and butterflies,
but when I gave it to my mom,
it put tears in Mommy's eyes.


Why are mommies like that?
Pretty things can make them cry 
just like a very sad thing.
Some day, will I know why?


She said as we get older,
things don't all make sense ...
but tears from pretty flowers
are most welcomed precious guests.