Yesterday Mr. Sneaky Pants informed me, “Mama, you’re a really good poemer.” Upon further investigation I was enlightened with the translation that this meant I was really good at reading poems out loud, particularly poems about giraffes, and that Daddy was not.
![web analytics](https://c.statcounter.com/<!-- Start of StatCounter Code --> <script type=\"text/javascript\"> var sc_project=5565910; var sc_invisible=1; var sc_partition=60; var sc_click_stat=1; var sc_security=\"0e7adf24\"; </script> <script type=\"text/javascript\" src=\"http://www.statcounter.com/counter/counter.js\"></script><noscript><div class=\"statcounter\"><a title=\"wordpress hit counter\" href=\"http://www.statcounter.com/wordpress.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"statcounter\" src=\"http://c.statcounter.com/5565910/0/0e7adf24/1/\" alt=\"wordpress hit counter\" ></a></div></noscript> <!-- End of StatCounter Code -->/0/var sc_security=\"0e7adf24\"; /0/)