When telling off my little one,
I know I should do better,
I think you'd understand it though,
The minute that you met her.
I try to be all firm and fierce,
Determined not to buckle,
But she's just so hilarious,
She makes me want to chuckle.
I tell her she must look at me.
She stares up at the ceiling.
Her mischievous behaviour's
When in the end, I catch her eye,
She pulls a strange expression,
Without a shadow of regret,
Whatever her transgression.
And then it comes, the hardest bit,
She says to me: "I'm woh-wee!"
(The cutest way a little one
Has ever said they're sorry.)
Her big blue eyes and curly hair
Don't help the situation.
And neither does her aptitude
For gross manipulation.
She throws her arms around my neck,
And sure enough, I weaken.
"I wuvoo, mummy!" she declares,
And just like that, I'm beaten.
And later, when I think of it,
I realise she has played me.
I'm not convinced I mind though.
After all, she is my baby!