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My Two Year Old Baby

Poetry By: Baz
Childrens stories



He may drive me mad sometimes, but he's still my baby.


Submitted:May 5, 2009    Reads: 1,787    Comments: 9    Likes: 5   


Paint on the wallpaper, crumbs in the car.

Six crayons lodged in the new VCR.

Stains on the curtains and jam on the floor.

That's what my two year old baby is for.


Giving his brother a punch and a kick.

So much white chocolate he makes himself sick.

Banging his forehead and starting to roar.

That's what my two year old baby is for.


Scrapes on the arms and the elbows and knees.

Breaking my cell phone and losing my keys.

Dribble that's oozing from every pore.

That's what my two year old baby is for.


Losing his teddies and breaking his toys.

Making a quite unbelievable noise.

Asking for candy and then wanting more.

That's what my two year old baby is for.


Trying to take a bite out of some coal.

Trying to take a drink straight from the bowl.

Crying so much that he makes himself sore.

That's what my two year old baby is for.


Climbing on tables and jumping off chairs.

And when I'm not looking, a dash for the stairs.

My hole-ridden shirts I suspect that he tore.

That's what my two year old baby is for.


But...


To give me a cuddle and kiss me goodnight.

Pulling me closer and squeezing me tight.

I give him so little, he gives me much more.

Now that's what my two year old baby is for!






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