This is a children's story based off of personal experience with my daughter.
|I woke up this morning all in a tizzy.
I looked at the seconds on the clock and it made me dizzy.
One flip flop was under my bed, but where was the other one?
“Mom, have you found my other flip flop, cause I need to run.”
Mom yelled back, “Lizzy, look everywhere.”
“Your brother always wants you to share.”
“It may be up high.” Said mom with a sigh.
“I don’t have to climb.” Said I.
Time was ticking by.
I was rushing, I had to fly.
I pushed books out of the way.
I was having a bad day.
This room is a mess.
I found a dirty dress.
I can’t find anything that I need.
I found a book I can read.
I think I left the flip flop in the bathroom.
I could use a broom.
All I find is a robe sash.
It’s going to clash.
“Where is it mom?” I cry.
This place is a pig sty.
“Can’t you wear something else?”
“No, everything smells.”
“Where do I look?”
It’s not in the nook.
I move furniture around.
All I find are cookies on the ground.
I rush to the toybox.
There’s nothing there but blocks.
I’m at a loss, so I sit and think.
For this is a big stink.
I moan and groan. I’m tired.
My time is almost expired.
The bus is coming soon.
I search faster, whistling a tune.
Mom yells, “Put on a different pair of shoes.”
Inside my spirit boos.
“I can’t go to school, other shoes won’t do.”
Mom replies, “Because they’re the perfect blue.”
“Is that them? No, it’s just slippers.”
I trip over some flippers.
I like those slippers because they’re new.
They just won’t do.
“Oatmeal is turning into a brick.” hollers mom.
I can’t find them, it’s a cold trick.
“Time is ticking by.” says mom.
I need to fly.” says I.
“What should I do?”
The other shoes are not new.
I sob, I pout, I scream.
Oh look a tube of cream.
No one’s helping me.
Did my flip flop flee?
They’ve got to be here.
I frown, my eyes begin to tear.
I throw my blanket in the air.
All I find is my bear.
That makes me laugh .
Ow, I step on a toy giraffe.
My brother laughs at me.
He dances with glee.
I growl and scowl.
This is just foul.
I flop on my bed.
My face is red.
I kick my feet.
This is no treat.
Mom comes into my room.
She has a broom.
“I’m going to have a fit.” she yells.
“You still haven’t found it?” asks mom.
Mom says, “Clean up this mess.”
“Start by putting away that dress.”
“It’s ten till.”
I don’t know where else to look.
I’ve looked behind every book.
I’ve searched behind every game.
I’m to blame.
I pick up my backpack, it’s upside down.
Everything falls out, papers that are brown.
Lo and behold, so do my shoes.
This is great news.
Mom bellows, “That’s great.”
“Lizzy, you’re not going to be late.”
“Next time put them away, it’s a good chore.”
The bus is waiting at the door.
Everything is good.
I’m in a happy mood.
My feet are dancing.
My heart is prancing.
I can go to school.
With shoes that are cool.
It’s a good day.
I want to flip flop all the way.