This one was written for my oldest son when he was maybe two or three, and definitely an ALL BOY boy! Jonathan is now 26, and can still quote this poem word for word. He loves to use it on me when I'm displeased with any of his behavior.

He broke my very favorite vase
and smeared black ink all over
the place.
He cut Rover’s “hair”
(and part of his ear!),
then hid on the housetop.
The child has no fear!

I’m tired; I’m weary;
I’m worn to the bone,
from chasing that youngster
all over our home.
But, gosh, he’s so lovely
As he lies softly sleeping.
Trade him in for an angel?
No, thank you! I’ll keep him.