Today is Father's day,
and mine just left
with is favorite breakfast in his belly.
Biscuits and gravy, hash browns, and scrambled eggs.
We had a wonderful visit.
Besides making that breakfast,
and taking a deliciously long nap,
the only productive thing I have done all day long
was give Baby Buddha
a shiny new paint job.
My daughter always tells people,
"Be careful. She will spray paint anything that stands still."
Baby Buddha had been hiding inside some scraggly bushes I had on the side of my house.
When they got pulled out, Baby Buddha was naked and exposed.
I look straight at him, through my kitchen window everytime I write.
I felt bad for Baby Buddha because he had bird droppings marring his happy dome.
Kinda like that wine mark on the Soviet guy.
I brought Baby Buddha into the house, and tried washing the bird poop off.
The stone he is made from is very porous.
It would not come off.
Poor Baby Buddha was going to be scarred for life.
It just didn't seem right.
So, I trotted off to the garage,
picked the perfect color,
and inside of five minutes
he is a perfect, sparkling
Happy Baby Buddha.
I could swear I heard him say "Thank You."
Welcome, Baby Buddha.
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