Sometimes I write for my 9 year old granddaughter. Most of those poems rhyme and are silly. I get a kick out of trying to think like a kid. This is one of those. The mountain looked so tall to Mr. Cheese. But one step at a time would make it a breeze. So he started to move his feet, legs and knees. At that moment he simply had to sneeze. That excited all the bees. They came after him out of all the trees. So he began to run. From the shadows into the sun. This chase was no fun. There were so