Thursday, August 22, 2013

babies



I thought of this sweet poem today while I played with Avery. 
My house looked like a disaster, the dishes needed to be done and I hadn't even thought of what we would have for dinner.
I had so much I thought I needed to get done, 
but spending time with my little bug was much more important. 

    Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
    Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
    Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
    Sew on a button and make up a bed.
    Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

    She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
    Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
    (Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
    Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
    (Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
    The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
    And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
    But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
    Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
    (Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

    The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
    For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
    So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
    I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.
    by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton






1 comment:

Denny and Denise said...

You have your priorities correct...she will not be little for very long...you were a baby just yesterday :(