Dirt Face

Dirt Face

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Thirteen is a Dream...of Sorts.

You're thirteen.
That must be a dream!
Since I held you not so long ago as a baby.

You look at yourself in the mirror for hours,
As if you're hoping it will give you powers.
You should know that never worked for any of us anyways.

Driving you though the city is today's docket,
While IPODs are in every lululemon pocket.
Those things sure cost a lot,
Hope it hits the spot,
Because you only have one shot:
If you loose it I'm not buying you another.

All that food? Please don't waste,
No, I cannot change the taste.
And will you clean up that spilled toothpaste?
It's not modeling clay!

I feel like I'm being punked,
How did you get the bathroom floor so gunked?
Have you ever heard of cleaning it?! I recommend a Norwex cloth!

500 beads on the floor,
No. You may not have anymore.
I think crafts are off limits from now on...

I don't remember hormones being this "neat,"
Or forgetting to put socks on my feet,
Pretending not to hear anybody,
Or avoiding all types of study.
I do remember getting straight A's though...

Your smile and sweetness come through,
Then I'm reminded that you just grew.
Once upon a time,
You were really just mine,
Small and cute and really the best,
Even if I did think you used to make a mess.
How wrong I was!!

All the things I taught you over the years,
You show to everyone else, or so I hear.
Generous, helpful and eager to learn,
Just don't ask her to do the dishes- it's not her turn.

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