52.37

The portrait this week (not many to choose from) is accompanied by the girl’s first poem (to my knowledge). She just came in the room and said “mommy, peat after me!” Then she proceeded to produce this poem (I promise I have written it down exactly as she said it)

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the airplanes flew up in the sky
they bonked their noses, then they cried
they couldn’t see so down they fell
into a mud puddle
and then they were stuck

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