Cyclone Baby

In a matter of minutes the cyclone has torn right through our home

Wreckage and chaos rule the day when the baby rules the throne

Remains of food in bite sized bits from breakfast, snacks and lunch

Tripping over all her toys, I slip on spilt juice and a cheerio I crunch

Our furniture is being redesigned in shades of stains of varied hues

Windows almost now opaque, little fingers marking the best views

Laughter is a constant soundtrack broken only by talk of gookildy goo

How can a grandpa ever get angry when she puts wet toast in his shoe?

Twenty two straight hours of energy, tempered by a quick half hour nap

You give her another bottle though you know it’s just her little trap

She’ll lay down with it eagerly with little calf eyes smiling blue

Until she drains the last few drops then it’s time to start all new

I wouldn’t have it any other way, I treasure each day that we can share

I hug her to me tenderly like she holds her cuddly teddy bear.