Baby Poems

Our baby is spoiled you see.

Not from consumer goods for free.

But for the life that he gets to live.

Devoid of day care, nannies and preschool,

He gets to spend his days with love,

Sharing his days with his Mom and his Dad, as they send adoration from above.

As he lies on his back,

On his activity mat,

Fighting with his stuffed worm,

Which we have named Wombat.

After our neighbors dog, you see,

Which isn’t afraid to run up a tree.

Nor is he (Wombat) afraid of his Momma’s new twins,

Which will bless their world with giggles and grins.

I think they’ll all play together, as they get older,

And their activities get bolder and bolder.

Sliding down mountains, getting muddy and bruised,

Only to limp home to some yummy venison stew!

As a Dad I will worry that he will get hurt,

Then I’ll get angry when he hurls an insult.

But as I instruct in the way he must behave,

I’ll be proud of this boy that we just gave,

To our God, who hopefully sees,

That we truly care about the life our son brings.

So with this little poem I write,

I hope that for all his days,

Our son will see light.

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