Babies strewn about, lacking clothes
Pieces of ribbon, lots of frayed bows
There’s laughter and giggles, the house is a mess
Bloody nose and some chocolate has ruined her dress
She’ll whine and cry and build up the drama
But I hold back tears when she’d rather have Mama
She’s very determined, states her desire
Not wishy-washy, this girl has a fire.
With all of the tact you’d expect of a tot
Ain’t noone who met her who hasn’t heard her thought.
Each day, a new color: blue, purple, or pink
She declares a new favorite without even a blink.
It has always been just as she said
No way to dissuade this stubborn li’l head.
With the very same stroke, a touch that is gentle
Which ends in a smack! You’d think you’ve gone mental.
With eloquence that belies her short years
And intelligence which gives babysitters fears
She solves many problems none knew that she had
She’ll raid the cupboard just beyond Dad
Something too high? Move the chair and climb up!
For playing in the sink; splashing her cup.
Never bored, she adorns things with colored wax
Following her with a rag is a tax.
At naptime, she gives an obligatory protest
But settles in nicely for a midday’s rest.
For two hours, a break! Peace in the house.
Yet all I can do is clean up – and grouse.
For it is not two, but an hour-and-a-half
She’ll again be acting like a gang of riff-raff.
But first, she requires a half-hour cuddle.
Lays her head on my shoulder; I turn into a puddle.
We sit together and watch one of her shows
How’s this rerun so special? A parent only knows.
When the show’s done, she may go and get her own food.
I’m telling you, she’s not one to sit there and brood.
I tell her to climb in her chair, buckle in
Her demeanor then changes, as if I had sinned.
“No food unless at the table you sit.
You know the rule, now don’t have a fit.”
She complies, but she eats with nary a fork
Even if she calls it “chicken,” it’s really pork.
She’ll look and she’ll want what’s on my plate
That’s the cost of having this young snack-time date.
Soon, the dinner prep will have to begin.
She wants to help. She wants to pitch in.
I’ll give her a job she can do without hurt.
She’ll get her apron – it hangs down like a skirt.
When we’ve battled together, gotten dinner prepared
Upon this same food, at the table, she’ll stare.
Brushing her teeth at bedtime’s fantastic,
She squirms as if she’s been learning gymnastics.
With her jammies on, her stories all read
This young whippersnapper’s ready for bed.
I thank my God, as I hold in my arm
This young, bright beacon of chaos and charm.
While I know that this age will not linger
She’ll always have Daddy wrapped ’round her finger.

Leave a Reply