BOYS

BOYS

Do you remember well the feeling,

The one of utter joy?

When they held aloft the baby

And announced that ‘It’s a boy!’

There’s a reason they don’t tell you,

Exactly what’s in store,

‘cos if they did you may have leaped

Straight out the fecking door.

Boys should come with manuals

And a helmet on the head

Or bottles full of Valium

For their poor old mums instead.

It all starts with the willie

And some would argue there it stays,

But I’m on about the nappy change

And the direction that it sprays.

Pee hits the couch, it hits the dog,

Now Junior has let fly,

But yes, you will still smile at him as

He pisses in your eye.

So then he starts to toddle,

His footprints in the hall,

He’s toilet trained, well sort off

‘cos now he pisses on the wall.

 

Some Boys have a pungency

It starts about age three

Like rotting mounds of Brussels sprouts

Or something dead plucked from the sea.

They have certain rules of logic

When they begin to play,

Climb it or destroy it

If it appears it’s in the way.

‘Sit down & be quiet’

Are words they just don’t understand,

God help you when the hormones flood

From the pituitary gland.

You’ll have boners, spots, wet beds and thumps

Before lunchtime on most days,

And Grans & Grandads telling you,

‘it’s fine, it’s just a phase’.

So if you can, relax and sigh,

Through all the tantrums, pee and goo.

One day your boy becomes a man

And says ‘Mum, how I love you.’

 

 

Sinead Hamill    http://www.writeforme.ie/

 

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