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

And energy and energy

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

But ‘angel’ faces they may be

Till six o clock and then . . .

The maddess of the toddler

Awakes to RULE again

 © Nicky Clifford, 1998