A Day with a Toddler

To rise at dawn and shake the world
With bright stampedes of little feet;
To fly in father’s arms downstairs,
In joyful cries the house to greet;

This is the morning of my son,
A day writ large in toddler’s joy.
We wheel pajama’d legs around
In sheer delight of being boy.

Into the living room we storm,
And see a zoo of friends around:
There’s Tigger, Pooh, and Curious George,
All heaped together in a mound.

Oh, the bliss of finding friends
With glossy fur and smiling eyes!
And oh, the joy of lining them
In new arrangements of surprise!

Now breakfast—that’s a messy thing:
It seems that spoons are just too slow;
So milk-dripped fists make quicker work
Of cereal; then off we go!

Baby Sam is borne downstairs,
And told directly where to stay;
He’s greeted with a “Hi, Baby!”
And then his brother’s off to play.

First lines of shapeless Play-Doh ducks,
Then markers on a cardboard box;
Next hiding underneath a chair
While Dad wrestles him into socks.

The world outside is bright and cold,
And full of reckless wonderment.
In coat and hat we face the day
And ponder where the leaves all went.

We pat the giant of a tree
That stands alone beside our car;
And murmur sympathetically
When we dislodge a chip of bark.

We chase the pigeons or a cat
If e’er they stray across our yard;
Driven by fascination’s fire
Rather than any thought to harm.

Puddles are perfect for jumping,
Or better, for sitting down in;
Picnic tables are for climbing,
And fallen leaves for tumbling in.

Inside for lunch, then take a nap
(A bright reprieve for Mom and Dad!)
Two hours down, or three at best,
Then face the world with vigor glad.

We read a stack of story books,
All familiar, yet wildly new;
Well-known books are fonder friends,
At least for boys not quite yet two.

At supper we sit down to eat
And have a battle of the wills—
He, who wants no more than cheese,
And parents urging vegetables.

Bathtime’s a fierce and wild cascade
Full of rubber ducks and splashing;
Pajamas slide on wheeling limbs
With laughter and with thrashing.

Now off to bed, but with a prayer—
He often wants to pray for “house!”
We pray for all within our home,
Then hug tight Pooh and Mickey Mouse.

He falls asleep; we breathe a sigh;
We’re done with one day for our son.
But then we stop and realize—
Oh man, we’ve got another one!