Twas the Friday before school started, and all through the house,
the kid is on the floor, whinging, and being a grouse.
Home is trashed–helter skelter! Clothes strewn everywhere,
as mom attempts to determine what jeans he can wear.
Bins with old books and toys are stacked up on my bed
and the kitchen floor’s status just fills me with dread.
I still can’t figure out how we collect so much crap.
Who needs twelve different rolls of sparkly Christmas gift wrap?
While I was working on laundry, there arose such a clatter
that I flew up the stairs to see what was the matter.
Up to the bedrooms, I moved like the Flash,
tripped over the top step and wiped out with a crash.
I swore and hopped up, moving creaky and slow,
and that’s when my foot found the sharp edge of Lego.
And what, to my watering eyes do appear?
A swath of #$^@ bricks the size of a light year.
I straightened my back with an audible click,
and cleared my way forward with a furious kick.
I steamed, and I shouted, and called him by name,
“THIS ROOM WAS CLEAN AND I’M NOT DOING IT AGAIN!”
Now bathrooms, now closets, now foyers and hallways,
and a huge pile of shredding I might just set ablaze.
As I wipe greasy fingerprints off the sides of my walls,
I eye my small boy and his toy-cluttered sprawl.
“Three more days,” I grumble. And needless to say,
with the state of my house, there’s not much blog post today.
Three more days till I can be normal, and blog without fight.
A good long weekend to all, and to all moms: just sit tight!