Twas the night before Kindergarten and all through the house
not a creature was stirring, except for one spouse.
The lunch had been packed
In the lunchbox with care
By his mom and his dad
Who were battling despair.
Their almost 5-year-old son was nestled
all snug in his bed
as visions of his first day of school
danced in his head.
I was in the kitchen
checking the snacks
making sure none violated
the rules for the pack.
On Yogurt!
On Goldfish!
On Cheese Strings and more
Bananas, grapes and apples
Nutritionally...a score.
So many snacks, which ones to choose?
I must pick the ones that won’t receive any “boos”.
To the top of the fridge, to the bottom cupboard drawer,
Yogurt and banana you win the award.
What to do with their days?
His parents wondered, quite subdued.
They planned out the ways
They’d find work to do.
But they couldn’t replace
All those sounds they would miss.
Or the games they would play,
All those owies they’d kiss.
“Our babies are grown!”
Cried the one to the other.
“Not yet,” came the thought,
No:
“There is another.”
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| Four more years, little one. Grow up slowly...your parents can't handle it. |
