There's laundry to do
and a broom to employ,
but I'm much too busy
with my little boy.
He's hungry at seven,
then ten, twelve, and three.
Again at five-thirty;
It's baffling to me!
He does nap twice a day
but it never lasts long.
He awakes with a screech,
or (rarely) a song.
Between eating and napping
there's lots to explore:
Stairs to climb, doors to bang,
and oh so much more.
By the end of the day
the board books are strewn
from the basket they're kept in
across the whole room.
Under each chair
he has stashed a few things:
A teether, a monkey,
some colorful rings.
There are cheerios smashed
in his high chair, and worse --
peas and carrots have found
their way into my purse.
When he's down for the night
I barely can muster
The strength to look 'round
and survey the disaster.
So if you stop by
our humble abode
Please know I'm not really
a lazy old toad.
It's just that I've got
a one-year-old child
who is spirited, mischievous,
funny and wild.
I've been tired since April
(Two thousand eleven)
But I'd never trade in
my small gift from Heaven.
