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Poem	Mother, your baby is silly! She is so absurdly childish! She does not know the difference between the lights in the streets and the stars. When we play at eating with pebbles, she thinks they are real food, and tries to put them into her mouth. When I open a book before her and ask her to learn her a, b, c, she tears the leaves with her hands and roars for joy at nothing; this is your baby's way of doing her lesson. When I shake my head at her in anger and scold her and call her naughty, she laughs and thinks it great fun. Everybody knows that father is away, but if in play I call aloud "Father," she looks about her in excitement and thinks that father is near. When I hold my class with the donkeys that our washer man brings to carry away the clothes and I warn her that I am the schoolmaster, she will scream for no reason and call me dada. Your baby wants to catch the moon. She is so funny; she calls Ganesh Ganush. Mother, your baby is silly! She is so absurdly childish!
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