Had my peaceful morning torn,
The next screech was for sharpening pencils,
Never underestimate the will,
Of a 6 year old,
Who has made up his mind to completely fold,
Mouth so wide open, you can see his tonsils,
Big fat tears that stick to his fluffy cheeks and sparkle,
The decibel levels well before 8am,
Will make you want to scram,
Too heavy to pick up and console,
You end up with an awkward shove on the lap, as he continues to howl,
A generation that takes us for granted,
With YouTube ideas already firmly planted,
You crack a joke about his kitchen mischief,
And how the water drenched him like a fountain, which abruptly ends his grief,
A quick bounce out of the lap,
And he bursts into hysterical laughs,
I breathe a sigh of relief,
As his mood turns a new leaf,
Tears give way to smiles,
And I realise we have so many more miles,
Of tears and laughter left.
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