Written by: Phyllis Ann Doros
Copyright © 1953 My Son Jim |
You spilled your milk… Then tossed your spoon Right down across the floor, Tipped over your dish very soon, And calmly asked for more. You chased the dog around the room, ‘til mama put her out, You hunted ‘till you found the broom, To break more things… No doubt! You pushed the chair up to the sink, And got into the soap. At times like that I stop and think, … Can there be any hope? From the closet you placed a shoe, Right in the baby’s crib, In baby talk he said: “Goo Goo… I didn’t need that rib!” There stood the cupboard door ajar, You couldn’t miss it Bub, The onions didn’t travel far… They landed in the tub. You hit your sister in the face, Tore up another book, Made such a mess out of the place, That I’m afraid to look. Though whenever I glance your way, You’re busy as a bee, You always find time in your play, To have a smile for me. One more kiss while you sleep in bed, Another day is done. Tuck you in and caress your head… We love you so….. My son. |
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