The Spaghetti's in the Fish Tank (Fresh with Added Verses)

This is a humorous poem from a frazzled mother to her husband. It is an improved version of the first one that includes additional verses.
The spaghetti's in the fish tank.
The fireworks are on the stove.
The five-year-old has cut her hair,
And your son is on the rove.

Clean clothes are in a pile
As big as big can be.
The laundry's in the fridge though,
Just like the new puppy.

The dishes are on the playset.
The rain will get them clean.
The crayons are on the carpet
Melted into the seams.

The syrup's in the shower
Calling the ants to lunch.
The baby's eating Matchbox cars.
Boy, they're fun to crunch.

Johnny's in the dryer
Going for a spin.
Your little girl's between locked doors
Wanting to get in.

The shiny school books you slaved to buy
Are setting in the sink.
(The kids' said their brains were fried
And that's where they could think.)

The baby had an accident
Up and down the hall.
The three-year-old was very kind
To throw cocoa on the wall.

Billy dissected the turkey
That was for our Christmas feast.
Connie threw your Ipod
At some drooling great big beast.

You know your antique juke box?
The one so shiny and bright?
It became an awesome tiger trap
Bobby closed with all his might.

But you'll be very proud--
We have scientists galore.
Billy set up a cockroach race
Across the kitchen floor.

We used to have nice carpeting
Throughout the whole upstairs,
But Billy burned some nice round holes
With the hair dryer I had up there.

And Betty needed feathers
To make her bird seem real.
Our comforter is no more
(She made the bird with zeal.)

Yes that is our cat
Who's been soaking in the Nair.
Yes, indeed it's bubble gum
Stuck within my hair.

Don't try to put the kids to bed,
For YOU are sure to tire.
Our creative kids have made a fort
Complete with moat and mire.

By now you're likely wondering
How I let things get this way.
Billy locked the basement door
There was nothing I could say.

Janet, our pretty, lovely teen,
Helped so very much.
Pounding music filled the air
drowning the noise and such.

The play dough's what's for supper;
That's all that I could find,
And because you only work all day,
I knew you wouldn't mind.
   By Stacy Fileccia
Published: 12/13/2008
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