Me: I can’t believe Jonathan Sky is eight today.
Nell: You say that every year about almost every birthday.
Me: My darling boy is growing up so quickly.
Nell: I wrote a poem for him. Would you like to hear it?
Me: Very much.
Nell: ‘Hurry up! Hurry up!
You cannot be late.
You must show your ticket
To the wolf at the gate.’
‘I don’t have a ticket
Cos I didn’t know
I needed a ticket.
Can I still go?’
‘Of course you can go.
Just don’t be late,
Because Jonathan Sky
Has just turned Eight.
And if you’re late,
You might just find
That Jonathan Sky
Has just turned Nine.’
‘Nine? Oh no,
That wouldn’t do.
He has to be Eight.
Now where’s my shoe?
I had two shoes on
When I started to run,
But now it appears
I only have one.’
‘Never mind shoes,
Where’s your hat?’
‘I don’t think I have one.’
‘Just ask The Cat.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To Jonathan’s house,
To party and sing
And dance with a mouse.’
‘Can mouses dance?’
‘Of course they can,
And it’s mice, by the way,
Do you like jam?’
‘Only on scones
With cream on top.
Will there be cake?’
‘Of course, now stop
And listen quite carefully
To what you must say
When you first see Jonathan.’
‘Happy Birthday?’
‘Yes, but please
Try not to bellow
And remember to add
He’s a jolly good fellow,
Who’s loved by us all
To the moon and back.’
‘I’m sure I would never
Forget to say that.’
‘So let’s join together
And shout out with joy
How much we adore
This most wonderful boy.’
Me: Thank you. I hope he knows how much he’s loved.
Nell: He knows. No tears. It’s a happy day.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
