Fantasy for real life

Recently I indulged in some great girl laughter watching Comedy Central roast veteran, Whitney Cummings’, “Money Shot.” Funny, funny, funny….but don’t put it on your Instant Play queue if you have delicate preferences. I reference her merely to give her credit for making me think….and laugh. Thanks Whitney.

She suggested that women are ill equipped to handle reality because they are raised on fairy tales and referred to as Princesses. There’s probably more than a little truth in that premise, but looking back at my early Brothers Grimm, Aesop and Disney tutors, I realize they prepared me to survive reality.

There's wifedom.  You absolutely must have princess training in order to be Queen of that kingdom. And, there’s a reason why they call it motherHOOD. You’re managing a band of outlaws who charmingly rob your heart blind. My four hoodlums are grown and gone, but they still hold me hostage.

And so, my kitchen tale.

What happened in my kitchen
is a fairy tale, yet true;
magic, old and wonderful.
magic bright and new.

King and queen and bold prince dined
with wizard, thief and slave
on Twinkies, Tarts and Domino’s
and sometimes we behaved.

King Arthur and his football knights,
at the table, round,
ate chicken wings with fingers while
grand stories did abound. 

Merlin mixed his magic there,
grew crystals in a lid,
to conjure up a Science "A"
and earn a contest bid.

Cinderella scrubbed the floor,
each inch on bended knee.
Lost her glass stiletto there
on prom night after three.

Prince Charming in his underwear
slew dragons in the dark,
deep within the pantry,
while munching Almond Bark.

Robin Hood was known to raid
the cabinets, on an eve,
of fish and chips and amber ale
to ply his band of thieves.

A husband and four children,
plus a multitude of strays,
with joy, inside these kitchen walls,
so humbly did I raise.

Now I sit here many nights,
with moonlight on my face,
and smile through teary mem'ries in
my kitchen filled with grace.

And I live happily ever after.