My Light-Hearted Kids Poem
Kids are rough.
They make my shoulders tired.
My eyes ruddy.
They make me 2nd,
3rd, 4th guess myself.
All of reality is questioned
And I’m summoned for answers.
Constantly running out of juice.
The fridge and pantries are stuffed to the gills
With every non-preferred food item imaginable.
I look over at my 3 persuasive goblin angels.
They appear to laugh and cry at the same time,
A rainbow of emotions radiating out
From the living room to the kitchen.
I was also laughing and crying,
Just on the inside the way adults do.
The floor was sticky under my socked feet from
Independent juicing while I was still sleeping.
My eyes fell on my wallet on the counter
As I closed the fridge.
“I just spent $140 dollars on the 3 of you.
We are not going to 7-11.”
I threw the Icee cups away and off the counter,
The ones we got at 7-11.
Then suddenly my 7-year-old walks over
And hugs me around the waist.
“I love you, dad,” he whispers,
Attempt to quell my raging thoughts
Wailing mutedly across my small apartment.
He then went into this valiant speech he delivers
Now and then when the mood feels right:
“And if I woke up one day and had a different dad
I would punch him in the face and go look for you.”
Kids are tough.
But they’re worth every penny.
And everyone else’s pennies.
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