A little poem I wrote on a lazy, summer afternoon:
Greta lounges on the couch, sucking on her thumb while
enjoying her latest fix of The Backyardigans.
She occasionally throws a glance
over her shoulder to smile
at the image of her father
languishing
on the
lazy-boy,
pinned firmly
under his
laptop.
Right now the following laws of physics rule:
Lazyness > Motivation.
I've never felt so close to my daughter.
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