Saturday

Everybody's favorite day.

Saturdays mean rise-and-shine,
start the coffee,
grind the Muesli,
and get the old iron griddles
good and hot.

Daddy's in the kitchen
and his girls are clamoring
for the spatula...

Until he relents to their hints
and pleas
and pecking --
and loads the classics:
Bugs and Daffy, Porky and Tweety and Foghorn Leghorn.

And they all gather 'round together,
and together they all laugh and giggle.
And every so often their giggles turn to a cackle.

All the while,
Mommy's lingering in her slumber
for just a few minutes more
before she's up at 'em.

And then her feet hit the floor
to accomplish her favorite chore.

New sheets on every bed:
the king, the queen and the twin.
Flannel in the winter,
Percale for the rest.

Hospital corners, nice and taut.
Fluff the pillows,
drape the canopies,
turn down the bedspreads in anticipation
of when large heads atop stick-thin bodies
and smelling of lavender shampoo,
will climb in between the polka-dots for a good night's rest.

They're readying themselves for
a meeting with the King
in the cool clean air of the morning.

When the feast is eaten,
and the dishes are done,
the day is rife with possibilities:

We might work
or rest or play;
we could visit a park to fly a kite,
or plant a garden,
or redecorate a room.

Saturdays are delightful days.