My day old son is plenty scrawny,
His mouth is wide with screams, or yawny,
His ears are larger than he's needing.
His nose is flat, his chin receding.
His skin is very, very red,
He has no hair upon his head,
And yet I'm proud as proud can be
To hear you say he looks like me.
*This poem doesn't apply to my children, however. :) They are always beautiful the minute they are born!*
~ Richard Armour
Cleaning and scrubbing can wait 'till tomorrow.
For babies grow up,
We've learned, to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
*This is the very reason my dishes still aren't done.*
Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life.