To my independent daughter (poem)

By Mummy

To my darling daughter, although you’re a twin,
you are getting so much more independent than him.

At 21 months he is still happy to be fed,
but you refuse my help, and turn away your head.

I choose his clothes; he still likes being dressed by me,
but you fight and tussle and just want to be free.

When we go for a walk he will hold my hand and be led,
but you don’t want it and you charge straight ahead.

He still loves to be carried; he’s happy not getting down,
you cry, squirm and wriggle and give us your best frown.

He will play happily on the floor for ages with a car or a train,
you want me to do drawing, colouring, painting with you (again and again).

If we go out, he will sit being pushed round in the sun,
you won’t go in, and throw a huge tantrum.

So to my darling daughter, as I write this, I am now beginning to see,
that you’re basically just turning into a small version of me.

And for all those sulks and strops that I also had,
it’s just payback time now (and my Mum is laughing like mad!).


For more poems and articles please go to my new WEBSITE

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