Small chubby fists a-pounding our front door,
Shoes, much too large, tiny pink purse in hand:
“Go bye-bye, Mama!” someone’s small voice begs,
While stomping on impatient little legs,
“Bump, clack, bump, clack” (shoes falling off again.)
“Not now, my sweets, let’s read a book instead.
Mama has work to do at home today,”
You stomp your feet and shake your little head,
I think you must be needing to be fed,
And put some oatmeal in your high chair tray.
Such feeling, so much spunk for one your size,
It’s quite a little spectacle you make.
You scorn the wholesome morsels in your tray,
You wave the offered spoon and fork away,
Yelling instead, “No, Mama! No! Want cake!”
I wonder where we’ve failed you, little one…
How are we raising such a strong-willed child,
Not grateful, meek and gentle like a dove;
No! Far from that! The princess we so love,
Is discontented, reckless, noisy, wild…
I tell these tales in horror to my mom,
Whose merry smile, she kindly tries to smother,
Venting, I share some things you do and say,
“Oh Mom, can you believe she acts this way?”
“I can,” she says, “you see, I raised her mother.”
These pictures and this poem may explain why I have been so silent these days. 🙂 I’m hoping to find more writing time soon. Have a lovely week!
She does have her sweet