The word Friday used to mean something
different back when my alarm
went off five days a week.
Back when the last half of that day
was mostly spent goofing off
and chatting with the other goofers.
Back when the day was celebrated
with end of week trips to McMullan’s pub
to congratulate each other on making it.
Now the day means more morning
cuddles, fixing breakfast together,
playing Cootie, reading Dr. Seuss.
More alphabet reciting, dish-washing,
dusting, Twinkle Little Star singing,
vacuuming, bubble blowing, and Eskimo kissing.
Now the word Friday means so much.
It’s another day in seven to do the most
important job I have ever had.