I haven't figured this out yet . . .
It seems like it’s been a while since I’ve written a poem for a post, and I was feeling mildly creative today, so that’s why you get a poem. C’s gotten in the habit of spilling her water on her tray and splashing it with her hands, and G’s probably seen me clean it up enough times to have thought to do this in the first place.
what are you doing?
cleaning up your mess for you
oh, I don’t think so