I Don't Like It

For the parents out there. You will know what I'm saying. All comments welcome.

I Don’t Like It

 © Luke Masters 2010

 

“I don’t like it, Daddy.”

The shower tickles her little lips

And she laughs.

She says she doesn't like it,

Because that's what I said.

She says she doesn't like it,

Before darting back for more.

 

*          *          *

I don’t like crowds.

She does

Provided they are all looking at her.

I don’t like repeating questions.

She does

And if we let her she would go on forever.

 

I cook dinner because we have to.

I peel the carrots ad nauseum

Because I know carrots are good for her.

She marvels at the “baby carrots”

And shows them to us in her cupped hands.

 

 I think other people

Are self-centred, mindless drones

Who cut me off on the road

And in the shops and yes in the crowds.

She thinks other people are

Wondrous, marvelous creatures,

Full of smiles and claps and love…

They just need her to remind them.

 

I am jaded. I am tired. I am worn.

She is happy.

She is full of energy and enthusiasm and life.

God, that s***s me.

But she makes me smile.

 

She yells at me,

But runs to the door in excitement

Whenever I get home.

She is naughty,

And looks at me with eyes

That dare me to respond,

But she will come to me gently

And ask “Are you all right, Daddy?”

If she thinks I am sad.

 

She is the best and the worst of two,

Just as likely to bite me

As to hug me.

But she is full of good things

Which I am not:

Wonder.

Hope.

Endless energy.

And easily resuscitatable happiness.

 

She is the storm and the sunlight

And I thank God for the gift that she is to us.

 

But, like Robin Williams once said:

God made babies cute

So we don’t eat them.