Another highlight of the weekend was playing the poem game one evening between rounds of Clue. Michael, poor soul, had never played before. Jonathan, deluded soul, insisted that it was boring and kept threatening to drop out. David, poor child, kept insisting that he couldn't think of anything to write. But it was fun. We came up with some real masterpieces, along the lines of:

Old King Cole was a merry old sole
He was round and bright, as I've been tole
I wonder why Old King Cole was a fish?
He should eat, not be, a tasty dish.

Or this:

O'er the misty mountains cold
There rode an errant knight, and bold
His shield was made of lemonade
Which, alas, did melt and fade
In the bright rays of the sun
At least he had his trusty gun
To shoot the pesky critters down
Which falsely wore a wedding gown.

Or this:

Once upon a midnight dreary
At the bar sat Tim O'Leary
With great sorrow on his shoulders
Lacking brown manila folders
How was he to keep his files?
All his papers sat in piles
On his hardwood office floor
They'll be sorted nevermore.

Hilarity at its finest.