From cradle to spots we adore them.
We nurture
We cherish
We care.
And then they become all obnoxious.
‘Bout the time they grow genital hair.
It’s like sharing a house with a crossbreed.
A mixture of monkey and snake.
Now, I think that the caring gene’s left me.
I’ve had just about all I can take!
We’re expected, as mothers, to shower, with unconditional love.
When the shower’s a thing they don’t care for.
He’s in need of an old fashioned scrub!
His room is a dungeon of terror.
I’m frightened just passing the door.
But when I do hear some noise I’m so thankful.
That he’s not lying dead on the floor!
