Olivia's Clubhouse

Here in Olivia's Clubhouse
We encourage creativity

So at every table
We have crayons
That you can use
To color the tables with

We believe in breadsticks
We believe asking for breadsticks is silly
Breadsticks should always be there

We do not allow stupid boys
We do allow Dad, and sometimes Lionel the Cat
But only when we're feeling
Like we want to hear a bedtime story

Dad plays every Tuesday night
And usually we have Lionel open for him
By sitting on a stool
And looking especially plump

We like artists who don't try too hard

Here at Olivia's Clubhouse
We have Mom make us muffins
And put them on every table
Next to the breadstick bowls

We talk about our friends
The ones who couldn't come over
Because their parents are too strict
And won't let them carouse
Past nine o'clock

Our clubhouse is made of one side of our couch
Seven pillows of different shapes and colors
A large blanket covered with hippos
And a stage made out of four shoe boxes

Sometimes we fall asleep in our clubhouse
Me, Olivia
And my assortment of dolls

Miss Evelyn, the divorcee
Miss Elle, the career woman
Miss Eva, the famous actress

But when we wake up
We're in my bed
And we run downstairs
Hoping our clubhouse has not been shut down
By the local zoning board

But there it is
Doors wide open
Pillows just where we left them
And fresh breadsticks on the table

And there's Dad
Sitting on the shoe boxes
Telling a story