I wrote a poem. Just a little window into my life as a stay-at-home Mom (for 3.5 more months, anyway). Cory said that I should post it on my blog. I said "Why? I only have 3 readers!" But he insisted, so dear readers (all 3 of you!), here is a glimpse into my soul!
(or an ode to my son’s under-developed table manners)!
My name is Connor, I am two.
I like to spit out all my food.
My table manners aren’t that great.
I’ll often show you what I ate.
My food is good, my food is yummy,
I like the food, but not in my tummy.
I chew it up, then spit it out,
I like to leave the chunks about.
I do not want it on my plate.
On my plate is second-rate.
I like to leave it on the table,
Or on the floor, when I am able.
I’ll eat it later if it’s there,
I like to pick it off my chair.
Sometimes I squish it in my hair.
Sometimes I smash it everywhere!
Would you like my pre-chewed food?
Even though the food is crude.
Would you eat it off my chair?
Would you scrape it from my hair?
I would not eat it off your chair,
I will not scrape it from your hair.
I will not eat your pre-chewed food,
Pre-chewed food is really rude.
Will you eat it off the mat?
Will you pick it off the cat?
I will not eat it off the mat,
I will not pick it off cat.
I will not eat it off your chair,
Nor would I pick it from your hair.
I do not like your food pre-chewed,
Pre-chewed food is rude and crude!
Will you scrape it off the floor?
Will you scrape it off the door?
I will not scrape it off the floor,
I will not scrape it off the door.
Not off the mat or off the cat,
Not off your chair, not from your hair.
I will not eat it chewed and bit,
I draw the line at mushy spit.
Will you eat my pre-chewed food,
When you’re standing in the nude?
I will not eat it in the nude!
I will not eat your pre-chewed food!
Not off the floor or off the door,
Or your placemat, or angry cat,
Your sticky chair, your matted hair,
I do not like my food pre-chewed,
Your pre-chewed food is nasty, dude!
You will not eat it, so you say,
Try it, try it, and you may,
Maybe play with it, instead,
That’s always running through my head.
It’s fun to squish between my toes
It contributes to your mopping woes.
It sticks to the table and the walls,
It’s on the ceiling and in the halls.
Do you like my pre-chewed food?
Left with love, your little dude.
Come on Mom, it’s just for you!
My name is Connor, and I am two!