The Bard would be proud...or confused.

In honor of Shakespeare's birthday, today's post is in iambic pentameter.

A very goodly morning to you all!
Some interesting things to pass along;
Alicia still is growing like a weed -
An apt if not quite flattering cliché.
Of course she's much more beautiful than that.
Her appetite keeps growing ever more
And hopefully that translates into weight.
Her doctor says she's big enough that if
She shows an inclination to sleep on
Beyond her usual three-hour stint
We need not wake her up during the night.
We hardly thought that that would mean we'd sleep
Straight through a blissful count of hours eight,
But that's exactly what we just enjoyed;
Alicia seemed as glad as 'Chelle or I.

But that's not all; there's more that she has done
That's worthy of my thick and clumsy tongue.
When last you read the words of my dear wife,
She told you of my daughter's bowel strife
(I'm rhyming now; let's not get too epic).

So anyway, that's getting better too.
If any of our readers have been praying
That she would be inclined to poop unaided,
Try not to pray as hard and fervently;
Last night she filled her diaper and onesie.

This weekend is a good one for me too,
With playoff basketball now underway.
I stayed up late last night to watch Cassell
Carry the Clippers to an opening win
(I've little love for Denver's sorry team).
I also ventured out on Friday night
For a little poker action, Mensa-style
And I learned that, geniuses or not,
Everyone can use a little luck.
I didn't do too bad, and I'll be back.
Lost seventy cents; I won't just let that go!

Well, I should bring this train wreck to a halt.
I hope the poets out there found it fun.
Now I'll close this passage with a rhyme,
As Shakespeare was so wont to do sometime.