Why must you be a child all the time?
With those dark, knowing eyes
and just-five-more-minutes-please smile.
Can’t you see that I’m tired?
I don’t have the time to play with you.
Maybe Tanya and Tina let you get away with it
but I’m not one of your little friends.
Yet you still try to sneak your way into my bed
When will you outgrow this phase?
Creeping fingers caught in the cookie jar and all my
‘Mama, how much longer you gonna make me wait?’
You know I hate it when you call me mama.
I don’t have the time to nurse you, burp you, or change you.
— Janine Serioux