Saturday, December 26, 2009

Words of My own Son

One of the presents that Brahms gave me this Christmas came in a small medicine bottle.  It was a poem he wrote about me.   If this is how my children think, then all the sweat and stress that come in raising kids is nothing compared to the joy of knowing that they appreciate what I do. 

Amazing Abilities
By Brahms

I don't know how
You keep it up
Filling our plates
Filling our cups

Doing the laundry
Cleaning the house
Strong as an oxen
Quick as a mouse

No speck of dust
Is left behind
So cruel to dirt
But to us she is kind

With kids that roll
With kids that hop
I don't know how
She has time to shop

With all these strange
Supernatural deeds
The funny thing is
She attends to my needs

She loves
And she cares
Takes all of our pictures
Cuts all of our hairs

I don't know how
She manages it
But if I were her
I think I would quit.

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