The house is a mess,
There are crumbs on the floor,
A big pile of sticks in a heap by the door.
Lego and dumper trucks litter each surface,
You run around parks, try to keep up with his pace.
Some days so loving, your sweet cutie-pie,
Other days chaos, clumsy whacks in the eye.
A whirlwind of hormones you can't understand,
One day he'll tower over you, a strapping young man.
He helps with the housework, you hope it's a sign,
That he'll grow up respectful, considerate, kind.
You want him to thrive, love his life, have some fun,
You hope future wife gets along with 'old mum'.
Some days you feel anxious, advice falls on deaf ears,
Boys nights out in the future knots your stomach with fears.
You look at his small face, engrossed in a toy,
He'll always adore you, you're the mum of a boy.
Guest Blog by the lovely Mummy Poet
Mummy Poet x