Hello my sweet little,
rise and shine today!
Let’s get you out of pjs
and ready for some play.
Are you growing so fast? Are you deep in a leap?
I’m asking you nicely,
what kept us from sleep?
Was your blanket too soft?
Was your music off-key?
Could it be that the temp
was off a degree?
Oh, don’t cry, not to worry!
I don’t mean to cause grief.
The love in my eyes
hides the bags underneath.
Oh joy, oh bless!
What’s that that I smell?
I will just smile
through this gag that I quell.
Oh, good Lord child!
I thank Him for you.
As my gaze falls upon
an explosion of poo.
Eight wipes at least,
for this mess up your back.
Six wipes or more
just to get to your crack.
Now there there my sweet,
you’ll be alright.
But what in the hell
did I feed you last night?
Time to get dressed!
No, it’s not time to dance.
Yes, you’re right, I am evil
for insisting on pants.
Wow you’re so strong!
I grin as I wrestle -
One leg down! But my eye
pops another blood vessel.
You waddle away,
fully clothed and unphased.
I take a moment to cherish
the leader I raised.
Off to the kitchen,
where your breakfast awaits.
I was up extra early
preparing your plates!
Strawberries and apples,
arranged in argyle,
bacon origami,
and pancakes that smile.
My eyebrow twitches,
but it moves with affection.
It seems you’re displeased
with the morning’s selection.
You throw down your food,
my life couldn’t be richer
I think, as I stare
at my MLB pitcher.
So I lean in to kiss you,
no sense to wallow!
You sneeze in my mouth
and I try not to swallow.
Ahh!
I scrape at my tongue,
in stunned disbelief,
truly privileged to be
your comedic relief.
Your giggles ensue
as I try not to heave.
I mouthwash and rinse,
and then wipe with my sleeve.
Then what do I hear?
Oh, bless your wee heart.
Your giggles produced
the most wonderful shart.
My stomach churns
from so much damn love.
Give me strength I whisper
to the air up above.
I glance up from the sink,
there’s a lady in here!
She’s a mess, so dishevelled,
as she stares from the mirror.
I smooth out my eyebrows,
and straighten my sweater,
Okay look, just like that -
and I’ve never looked better.
I’m coming my dear!
Now don’t make a fuss,
I laugh frantically
‘cause I choose not to cuss.
I look at the clock,
grateful time moves so slow,
another half an hour down,
only eighteen years to go.
Commentaires