Talks like Seuss

Charlie is five, almost six.
He just can't resist
picking up sticks.

He likes to hit them on the ground
and karate-chops them for their cracking sound,
or he'll swing them round and round.

Mostly, he skips
yet sometimes he slips
or, distractedly, even trips.

Always in motion,
I have a strong notion
based on my devotion:

Since he eats like a bird,
I find it quite absurd
how he never, ever tires.
Could he be strung with electrical wires?

Indeed, it is funny
how when it is sunny
I say, "All right, Honey,
let's look for a bunny."

He smiles and shakes his head,
remembering something I earlier said.
Or was it a children's book I read?

"You're doing it again!"
I laugh at his words, so zen.

He doesn't refer to my timing
but, rather, my inadvertent rhyming
for every time we're together--
like birds of a feather--
he believes it's a ruse.

Oh, Charlie, what's the use?!

"Mommy, you talk like Dr. Seuss."