This is my first attempt to write for a grandson too young for Robby Robin. More to follow.
Hugh’s Missing Truck
“Boo hoo,” said Hugh, “what shall I do?
I’ve lost my truck, the one that’s blue.”
“Don’t worry, Hugh,” his Daddy said.
“Your fire truck’s here, the one that’s red.”
“My fire truck’s fun, its siren, too.
but I really want my truck that’s blue.”
Said Momma, “Now, now, my little fellow,
here’s your school bus, the one that’s yellow.”
“I like my school bus, I really do,
but I’d rather have my truck that’s blue.”
“I have an idea,” Grandpa said,
“why don’t you look under your bed?”
Hugh smiled at his Grandpa and cried, “That’s right!
I stored it under my bed last night.
My truck that’s blue’s not lost at all,
it’s waiting for me, along with my ball.”
“Grandpa, you always bring good luck.”
And together they went to get Hugh’s blue truck.
Copyright 2016, Jane Fritz