Shit it can climb up the sofa,
It’s learnt how to escape from the reins.
It’s worked out how use door handles,
And use lego to inflict immense pains.
Shit it can stand-up in its highchair,
And turn on the hot tap in the bath.
It can break into any cupboard,
And when told off it responds with a laugh.
Shit it can unlock an iPhone,
And send e-mails and delete all my apps.
It knows how to switch on the telly.
And give surprisingly painful slaps.
Shit it can break out of its sleeping bag,
And remove all its clothing in seconds.
It knows how to get through the stair-gate,
Where the cat bowl and knife drawer beckons.
Shit it knows where the snacks are kept,
And how to escape from its nappy.
It knows how to switch on ALL the musical toys,
Because that’s what makes it happy.
Shit it knows how to break mummy’s spirit,
With the running, and climbing, and screaming.
Remember when all they did with shit, smile and gurgle,
So do I, that’s how I know I’m dreaming…