He’s up, or so I think.
It’s 6:00 am… do not stir, do not blink.
If he hears me, he’ll be aware
to my presence and will stomp downstairs
and muddle in my early-morning affairs.
This is my time, I earned this!
I went to bed at 8:30, so I hope it’s just a piss
And then my son will return to dreamland…
where unicorns… bound endlessly… through enchanted lands.
Go back to sleep, dear son,
It’s too early to jump, shout, or run
The sun’s not even up! Please do not rush.
You need to rest. My silent voice says… ‘hush.’
I lift my coffee mug and ding the table,
The noise rings out like a horse kicking the stable.
Here he comes! He heard me, NO!
Now there’s no place to hide and nowhere to go.
Crayons? Play Doh? Rainbows? Trucks?
The options are endless. Now he wants fudge.
But he’s my son. Furrow my brow, I will not.
Mimicking Yoda, my kid laughs, it’s my parental crutch.