Little hands, why?

Why do you grab and shake without thought, why do you grip and destruct without reason, just the mere pleasure of noise, of touch, of feeling in your palms?

Joyous are you, so young, so soft in skin, so thoughtless and only wandering, wondering about this cruel world.

Curious fingertips, eyes of delight.....whine if you must, such a small little fight.

You can't have that bowl on the counter just because it's blue and shiny. You can't break it and shake it and add it to your attire.

Digging, rummaging, a need to decline...but oh...
your whines are loud. Their ear piercing...

but devine.

Walking with instinct, a need to explore...danger, danger....but you can't care anymore. You must explore and expand, the need to touch, to feel, to understand.

Seeking, searching, your mind is on track....must, must, must go on to attack....

pure laughter from boys...little boys...with hands that attract all the noise. I find you amusing, little hands, although quite destructible ....little....

little lambs.