The infant starts to rustle.
Then the bottle maker's starts to wake,
For soon they'll need to hustle.
At first there's just a little squeek,
Or a grunt, and then a wiggle.
Still the sleeping parents in the room...
Do not, yet start to giggle.
They start to wake and try to think...
Who's turn is it to parent?
Still after many grunts and squeeks,
No loser's yet apparent!
The infant still has yet to cry,
He's still not quite awoken.
And still the parents, half asleep...
Have not yet moved or spoken.
The rustling gets a little louder,
The grunts become more frequent.
We're use to this awakening time...
We've come to know its sequence.
Its slow at first, with little movements;
But the process slowly strengthens.
The legs and arms will push and pull...
The swaddling starts to lengthen.
The grunts now seem to have a purpose,
As some whimpering now starts.
And then the quiet darkness breaks...
Its silence -- with a fart!
The parents though still half asleep,
Can't help but jointly giggle,
Its almost like they felt some pride...
And the bed begins to jiggle.
All that work is 'waking up',
It's time for another feeding.
And as the movement escalates...
Its time they started heeding!
A diaper change and a bottle mixing,
The drinking has begun.
The starving boy starts guzzleing...
His snack will soon be done!
Then just as fervant as it started,
He drifts into a stuper...
'Milk Drunk' - There lays our little man,
Then next...he'll do a pooper!!
"Dang it, Why does he always poop on my watch"!!!
Did you hear that noise? What it was?
No comments:
Post a Comment