My alarm clock has changed,
Its now a face pat or shake.
It makes the sweet sound,
Of “Pop, are you awake?".
It goes off, Oh so early,
Not yet a hint of the sun.
But a perfect opportunity,
To get the good stuff done.
Just the two of us for breakfast,
At the wooden bench we sit,
We discuss most weighty matters,
Like his pirate ship sand pit.
Each new day brings a surprise ,
A delight to watch him grow.
There is always something new,
More words, or he learned to throw.
Its seems I now understand
Most everything he can say,
Is it me who is slowly learning,
His magical two year old way?
He finds many ways to say what he wants,
And when there’s communication stress,
He takes my hand to show me,
Or finds another way to express.
When he announces his intention,
To put his "whiskas on Pop",
It seems I can’t quite bring myself,
To say that he should stop.
To my rough unshaven face,
He rubs his soft smooth chin,
He thinks that I'm the one prickled,
I feel guilty, I know its a sin.
I pretend that it really tickles,
So he giggles and does it some more,
Until the rash on his cute little face ,
Is pink and looking rather sore.
On my shoulders he rides so high,
He is Superman with his cape.
From a battered old cardboard box,
He makes good his comical escape.
Nightly news and current affairs,
Are now a thing of my past.
Just Giggle & Hoot in prime time,
He gets excited, having a blast.
To him the puppets are real,
We sit and watch it’s my choice.
Enduring the awful sound,
Of Jimmy Giggle's squeaky voice.
When he is wild and running amok,
Or makes an ear piercing squeal,
He will solemnly commit to behave,
Signed and sealed with: "It’s a deal!".
Its a formal binding agreement,
That lasts a minute or two,
Then off exuberant and playful,
With much more mischief to pursue.
Every day a brand new adventure,
He is nothing short of full on
As far as I’m concerned he is perfect,
My little grandson John.
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