ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Not Much Fun

It’s not much fun being little,
a tiny tot like me.
You can’t see over fences,
window sills or benches.
You can’t play running rover.
Or even climb a tree.

It’s not much fun being shrimpy,
the midget of the house.
Ignored when you are talking.
Told to hurry when you’re walking.
"And leave that stick alone." they say
"You don’t want me to rouse."

It’s not much fun when you're very young.
Your meat and veg get mashed.
You’re seated in a high chair.
Spoonfuls come from nowhere.
Pumpkin, cabbage, beans and peas,
mixed to soggy hash.

It’s not much fun as the smallest one.
Your nappy’s hardly on.
It makes it oh so hard to climb
with pants round ankles all the time.
And how to reach that chocolate
before the last bit’s gone

It’s not much fun being only three.
Can’t reach the pantry door.
Not allowed to read dad’s books.
Can’t help mum each time she cooks.
But I don’t mind ‘cause guess what?
Next year I’ll be four.

I always feel sorry for kids and small dogs relegated to years looking at peoples knees and not knowing what the hell is going on. It must be a pretty scary world down at that level. I know when I pick my little Elly up for cuddles her head turns this way and that as she gazes at all the things above her normal level of sight. I think you have captured that feeling well - is it any wonder that some littlies get frustrated and throw hissy fits?

I'd forgotten that I'd posted that one Maureen so a belated thank you.
Wazza