I will never, ever forget my two as toddlers . . . hmm!
‘Can I put your nappy on?’ and
‘Can I get you dressed?’
Every simple question is just
Bound to get us stressed . . .
It’s ‘NO!’ to this and ‘NO!’ to that
The ‘Y’ word’s left to rot
It’s ‘NO!’ to coat and when he’s cold
It’s ‘mummy’ who forgot!
I want a ‘this’, I want a ‘that’
And NOW is FAR too late
I’ll scream and throw a tantrum if
I’m EVER made to wait
I like to play with others’ toys
But they cannot have mine
And ‘share’ means they must let me play
With their toys all the time.
When mummy’s talking on the phone
I don’t know how to play
I’m getting no attention so
I make her look my way
I know a lot of naughty things
That mummy can’t ignore
Like jumping on my favourite toys
Or swinging from the door . . .
Yet strange to say, the very time
We have to rush away
My toys seem so compelling that
I want to stay and play
I never seem to stop
Activities! Activities!
I have to DO a LOT . . .
When bed time comes, and cuddled up
Asleep in mounds of quilt
You think of tempers lost that day
And feel consumed with guilt
Till six o clock and then . . .
The maddess of the toddler
Awakes to RULE again
© Nicky Clifford, 1998