This poem is pretty self-explanatory/ life with a toddler is a bit mad sometimes!
No and no and no once more,
you’re lying on your bedroom floor,
your arms they flail, your body jerks,
all ’cause your daddy’s gone to work.
No and no and no again,
you don’t want me but shout my name,
‘Mummy, here! Mummy, come!’
And just like that, the tantrum’s done.
Downstairs we go, it starts up fresh,
I whisper swear words under breath,
‘Milk!’ You roar – the bottle’s out
and for a moment, you don’t shout.
Perched on couch, it’s back anew,
I know exactly what to do,
Peppa Pig up on TV,
while I face-plant strong cups of tea.
I watch you from the kitchen door,
it seems you’re back to calm once more.
For now, I think we’re safe, it’s done:
Tantrum – zero, Mummy – 1