Life together has been close to heaven,
My toothless wonder,
Makes me ponder,
With his 10,000 questions per second,
As I answer one, he's ready with the next, his chattering mouth, his weapon,
My personal All India Radio,
Sometimes I wonder if my house is a studio,
From morning to night,
This is my plight,
I can hardly think,
As his questions keep flowing in a wink,
What I don't like is that he's growing in a blink,
Where's my tiny baby with his diapers that stink,
Don't become seven so quickly,
I still want you to be that sleeping baby, tiny and picky,
Strange this feeling of watching my little bean,
Turning into a beanstalk, and into a wannabe teen,
100km/hr the speed of his mouth,
Anyone's ears will turn south,
My tiny chatter box,
With too many toy blocks,
I watch with you pride,
As you make the whole world ride,
Around your tiny fingers and mouth.
