Big yellow thing

A poem on babies and big yellow machines.

It was a warm and rain-wet Autumn day
When Peter went to see the digging machine.
It scooped and turned, piling mud out of the way,
but Peter preferred to look at cars.

The neighbor's empty lot, which was sold, is being made into a too-big house.

In other updates, Saturday we woke up to find Peter's second tooth: a matched set, center bottom. Sharp!